A Creature, Frail and Vain
by Adamantwrites
Summary: Adam finds himself intrigued by a woman he meets in San Francisco and is led into a strange relationship.
1. Chapter 1

A Creature, Frail and Vain

I

Adam stared at the letter he held; he was hesitant, almost afraid, to open it. It was from Sophie's parents, that much he knew just from the envelope. The return address was Hartford, Connecticut and written in a script that wasn't his wife's and therefore, it probably contained bad news. His mind raced. It couldn't be that something horrible had happened to Sophie or her parents would have wired him; bad news always came by telegram. People couldn't seem to send it fast enough. Exceptionally good news came by wire as well but as far as he and Sophie were concerned, there could be no good news, at least not to him unless the letter inside the envelope told him to meet her at the stage depot in Virginia City, that she was returning to him, a duly repentant wife.

But Sophie? Repentant? Never. And Adam wasn't even sure that he wanted to see her contrite for that would mean she was broken and he wouldn't be able to bear that; he still loved her no matter what. He knew he was a fool but couldn't help himself.

It had been almost two years since she had left him and all that Adam could think of while looking at the letter was that she had remarried, that their separation had finally resulted in a termination of their marriage without his knowledge—after all, her father was a lawyer. Adam knew that in Nevada, desertion of one's spouse resulted in dissolution of the marriage and many a wife had been deserted by their husbands when they went off to look for gold after their stake ended up being worthless. It took five years though for the wives to be free of their husbands but he didn't know about Connecticut, and Adam hadn't deserted Sophie—she had deserted him and he had no interest in divorcing her.

They had always argued, he and Sophie. She thought she was always right and he believed that he was. Often he would give in to her for the sake of peace but then she would accuse him of being patronizing. But usually their arguments ended because Adam couldn't bear anymore so he would hold her and she would tell him to let her go, attempting to pull away, and he would reply, "Never." And often he would press his face against her neck, holding her close until he could feel her relax in his arms and then he knew that he could kiss her and she would respond. The only positive thing that resulted from their arguments was the joining of their bodies afterwards. It seemed that the angry passions she roused in him turned into desire and he felt his soul so elevated by their love that it became a form of religious ecstasy.

Adam told Sophie once as he held her in their bed that loving her was rapturous, that even the saints in all their religious fervors couldn't match the divine transportation of his soul when he reached the culmination of their joining.

"That's blasphemy. You shouldn't say such things." She had placed two fingers on his lips but he only took her hand and kissed her fingertips. "God will punish you—us."

"No, no punishment for you, my Sophie. You are the most divine creature God ever made and I worship you, I adore you and I pay homage to you and your beauty every day." He ran his mouth along her bare shoulder and then kissed her neck, her hair having fallen aside as they lay on their sides. To Adam, she was the most wonderful, the most enchanting woman he had ever known and from the first time their eyes met he knew that he was hers and that whatever she chose to happen, he would comply. And he felt exhilarated and doomed at the same time for Adam knew that a love that fierce might burn itself out and destroy him, but he was willing to take that chance.

"I swear, Hoss," Adam said as they loaded the buckboard outside the feed and grain store, "is food all you think about? Hop Sing'll have dinner ready when we get back to the Ponderosa so can't you wait until then? I want to get home—I'm worn out."

"Looks like your memory done failed you, Adam. That lumber man's comin' in and we got to wait for the stage. Age is finally catchin' up with you and your memory." Hoss threw a sack of oats on the buckboard.

Adam groaned. He had forgotten about the lumber buyer, Louden Wilson, from San Francisco. Before the company for which Wilson worked finalized the contract for Ponderosa pine to be delivered, he wanted to see the stand from which the timber had been cut, the quality of the wood and to visit the mill where the planks were being sawed. Adam pulled out his pocket watch. It was only a little after 4:00 and the stage was due at 5:30.

"Fine," Adam said, "let's go to the Sazarac where you can get food and I can get a beer." They closed the tailgate, secured it and then walked over to the Sazarac for a beer for Adam and a sandwich or two or three for Hoss.

Adam leaned against the wall of the depot waiting for the stage; it was already fifteen minutes late. Hoss paced, his hands on his ample waist. Suddenly Adam stood up—he had seem some dust rising.

"Stage is here," he said and walked to the edge of the slatted sidewalk to greet their guest and business partner. When Ben had traveled to San Francisco, he had placed the bid with a man from the accounting office of Bronson and Sons. The man coming in today was in charge of planning and quality control; that was why he needed to see the quality of milled lumber but who he was, none of them knew and Adam didn't particularly want to know. He would rather spend the evening at Alicia's house with her two sons whom he had come to care for. He often envisioned them as a family and believed that they could be very happy.

Hoss and Adam stepped back and the depot master came out to assist the ladies as they debarked and the driver handed the baggage down as well. The male passengers took theirs and Adam helped the two ladies with theirs. He tipped his hat to them as they thanked him.

"I'm guessing you're Wilson," Hoss said, grinning. He felt he knew as soon as this man had climbed out of the stage that he was the San Francisco business man; he was well-dressed and looked big city although slight in build and a little too pretty.

"You are correct," he said putting out his hand. "Louden Wilson for Bronson and Sons."

Hoss shook his hand and then introduced himself and Adam and soon all three men were on their way to the Ponderosa.

TBC


	2. II

II

From the bed of the buckboard where Hoss sat, Adam driving and Mr. Wilson beside him, Hoss asked questions about the building boom in San Francisco that was the reason for the demand for lumber. It seemed, Ben had said when he came back from the business trip to place the contract, that San Francisco changed every day, a road that wasn't there just the day before appeared the next and buildings seemed to go up overnight. But most amazing was the plan for a mass transit system called cable cars. That piece of news intrigued Adam and he asked more questions but Ben said that he was at a loss as to how it was to be done but it would be like a railroad track running through the middle of streets only they would be connected to a cable and run that way, not from steam.

During the ride, Wilson asked about the land; he was impressed by the vastness of the Ponderosa and the beauty of the countryside. Adam told him that the Ponderosa was so large that the terrain even changed from one end of the property to the other. They also happened to see some deer and a cougar sat high on a rock, sunning itself and Adam pointed it out while Hoss hefted his rifle in case it was needed. But soon enough they were at the Ponderosa and Ben came out to meet Louden Wilson and to welcome him to his home—all of it built with Ponderosa pine he pointed out to Louden Wilson's amusement.

Ben told Wilson that there was no need to dress for dinner; they were a casual bunch so if he felt comfortable in his traveling clothes, he was welcome to wear them to the table. Hoss was relieved when Wilson agreed; it meant that dinner could be served just as soon as they washed up.

As they sat eating, Joe asked Wilson about San Francisco as well, how it had changed since the one time he had been there. Hoss laughed and said that they were almost all shanghaied and Wilson laughed and said that he avoided the waterfront for just that reason. As wonderful and beautiful as San Francisco was, Wilson added, there was the darker side of the city peopled with criminals and prostitutes. But the culture, ah, that was the best thing about San Francisco. He had spent many a pleasant night enjoying the ballet company and considered himself an aficionado of the art of dance. His sister who lived with him, he said, considered him a dilettante and claimed that the only reason he went to the ballet was to see women in shorter skirts that showed their ankles. But Wilson raved about the visit by Marie Taglioni who danced en pointe; she was impressive, Wilson said.

"What's that mean?" Hoss asked, "On point?"

"Well" Wilson explained as he drank his after dinner cup of coffee, "it means that she wears specific shoes and dances on her toes. It's amazing how magical it makes the dancers look. They seem almost ethereal—otherworldly—as they move about the stage. And Taglioni, she's like an angel, so delicate and lovely."

Hoss and Adam exchanged glances; Wilson seemed a little too interested in ballet to them to be considered much of a man. Hoss and Joe, well, they enjoyed the dancing in the Mexican cantinas where the women held up their skirts while they danced on the tables with fast, sinuous moves while the audience drank mescal, or in the saloon where for a price, the girls would dance along with the piano, tossing up their skirts at the end and showing fancy underclothes. That type of dancing, the brothers would applaud but ballet didn't seem very attractive to either of them. A bunch of women dancing on toes and as they listened, Wilson talked about the great male dancers who leaped across the stage as if it was no effort. One could see the thigh and calf muscles flexing under the tights.

"Tights?" Joe asked. "You mean like what ladies wear?"

Adam smiled and looked at his father who smiled at him. Both knew how unsophisticated Hoss and Joe were when it came to things such as ballet.

"Yes," Wilson said. "And they have such magnificent physiques. They always put me in mind of a beautifully-formed stallion."

"Yeah, I bet," Joe said, more to himself than anyone else.

"They wear them special shoes too?" Hoss asked.

"No," Wilson said, "they wear slippers."

Before Hoss or Joe could ask any more questions, Adam spoke up. "I've never actually seen a ballet. I've seen photographs and such but never actually sat and watched one performed."

"Don't sound like he missed much," Hoss whispered to Joe who sat beside him. Joe giggled and Ben gave them both a stern look.

"If you like music and elegance and grace, then you should make a point of seeing one. But what I am most excited about is that there is a revival of Mozart's 'The Marriage of Figaro'. I have tickets reserved for when I return."

"You enjoy the opera?" Ben asked.

"Very much," Wilson said. "And I am so looking forward to this. I have never seen one of Mozart's operas and I do so like the idea that his…well, he is a bit naughty, you know, and I am looking forward to an entertaining production."

Hoss barely suppressed a grin at the term that Wilson used-naughty. He knew not to look at Joe or Joe would giggle again; they both knew they were being rude but couldn't help themselves.

"I would like to see that," Adam said, "and we have a fine opera house here, Piper's Opera House, but at the moment there is nothing in the offing. They have resorted to what appear to be traveling actors of sorts who perform one-act plays to draw revenues. No Mozart."

"Why you should visit San Francisco as my guest, Adam. We have more than enough room to have guests and while you meet with the Bronson's engineer, you can also take in the culture. When was the last time you went to San Francisco for pleasure?"

"Actually, never. It's always been for business and I was always more than eager to leave."

"Well this time, come for pleasure. Pack a bag and return with me. I would enjoy having a traveling companion who is interested in more things than passing around a flask of cheap whiskey and spitting tobacco out the window and not having it fly right back into the coach."

They laughed as all four Cartwrights had experienced such things, a wad of tobacco flying back into the offender's face.

"Pa," Adam asked, "can you spare me for about two weeks?"

"Course," Hoss said, "since you barely do anythin' anyway."

"That's because most of my work is done with my brain—something with which you're totally unfamiliar."

"Funny man," Hoss said and Joe laughed. Even Ben smiled and so did Louden Wilson; he was enjoying the conversation since he spent his time at home in San Francisco with his younger sister and she didn't entertain any men at their home, actually, not anyone, satisfied to remain alone. Nevertheless, he and his sister's quiet way of life found him starved for the companionship of someone of like-mind and he delighted in Adam's company, so unlike the rough, ignorant men with whom he worked whose only purpose was in making money and spending it on vulgarities such as mistresses and expensive, gaudy jewelry for the wives in order to placate their own adulterous consciences. Louden Wilson had seen how money can corrupt a man and bring out the worst in him but Adam Cartwright seemed to have been able to sidestep that effect of having too much money.

"You think Alicia can do without you for a week or two?" Ben asked. He knew that Adam was skittish about marriage, always had been but it appeared that he had finally found a woman he could care for and who loved him in return. She also had two sons who adored Adam and he seemed to relish the idea of having a ready-made family to make up for lost time. After all, Adam was nearing forty and Ben was beginning to wonder if he could ever find happiness in marriage.

"I think she can do without me just fine," Adam said.

"Why not bring her along," Wilson said. "I love company; the house is usually so quiet that it could use a little livening up."

"I couldn't impose." Adam wasn't sure that he wanted to invite Alicia. "She has two boys and they tend to get a bit rambunctious…"

"I'll watch Sully and Timmy," Ben said. "Let Alicia know and I'm sure that she would be comfortable leaving them and going to San Francisco. She works hard and could use a little vacation—a romantic getaway?"

Adam smiled but it was more like a grimace. "Thank you, Louden. I'll ask her tomorrow. Are you sure that it'll be fine with your sister—to have a guest or guests barge in?"

"It's my house, not hers—as much as she runs it as if it were—and I can invite as many people as I like into my own home."

Adam wondered about Louden's sister, if she was as negligible as he implied for he did seem to be a bit nervous as he tried to convince Adam that all would be well. Sweat actually broke out on his forehead. Adam concluded that his sister must be formidable.

They moved into the great room for brandy and Ben offered a cigar to Wilson who gratefully accepted. Adam took one as well and lit the end, puffing until the tobacco caught, but Hoss and Joe declined and when Adam began to ask about cable cars and their inception, Hoss excused himself for bed and Joe quickly followed suit. But Adam was fascinated by the mechanical aspect of the contraptions and to the idea of making it easier to haul heavy loads up the steep streets of San Francisco and also, how they could be used to transport people for a small fee. The city could make a great profit by investing in such a project.

Adam found that he enjoyed Wilson's company; the man was educated and intelligent and as Adam did, enjoyed not only the complexities of engineering but had a love of the arts that no one else in Virginia City shared to such a degree. He decided that he was looking forward to San Francisco and he decided that having Alicia along would be nice if only he could convince her to go with him.

TBC


	3. III

III

"But, Adam, think of my reputation. I can't go waltzing off to San Francisco with you and be gone for two weeks. What would people think?"

"They would think that Adam Cartwright is one lucky man," Adam said as he turned Alicia to look at him. He admired her. Alicia Whitman was a lovely woman, gentle and kind-hearted. She had been a widow for three years, her youngest, Timmy, only being a few months old when Bruce Whitman bled to death at the sawmill. Ben Cartwright felt guilty. Just that morning he had told Whitman that maintenance, the oiling and sharpening, needed to be done on the blades and it was in doing so that Whitman had an inexplicable accident and basically cut himself in half at the waist; Dr. Martin said that he may have lived only a few seconds but that was the most. The blood-soaked sawdust on the mill floor was burned and Alicia was kept from seeing her husband's body until the undertaker had managed to place him in the coffin, dressed and looking whole.

After the funeral, Adam or Ben would visit Mrs. Whitman and her two sons every week and drop off groceries and deliver Bruce's pay; she would receive the money for her lifetime as compensation for the loss of her husband while he was in the employ of the Ponderosa. After the year of formal mourning, Adam began to see Alicia Whitman socially; he had come to like her. She wasn't beautiful but Adam wasn't interested in that anymore; he wanted a peaceful life now and to be happy and with Alicia and her boys, he found that he was content. And he had decided that passion wasn't necessary for a happy marriage. Actually, it occurred to him that pleasant companionship was probably more important than deep love in choosing a wife. He found that kissing Alicia was pleasant and she was amiable and respected by the community. The natural course seemed to be to marry her but Adam found that he couldn't take that next step. Maybe this trip to San Francisco would be what he needed to seal their relationship.

"What about Sully and Timmy? I can't just leave them. They would miss me too much. Why Timmy's only three."

"Pa said that they could stay at the Ponderosa. You know how much they like being there, how they talk about it being their home, their house someday. Why they've even picked out their bedrooms." Adam smiled.

"I don't know, Adam." Alicia gently disentangled herself from Adam's grasp. "I've never been to San Francisco before and I've heard that it's quite the wicked city. It's just too much—going away with you and visiting a strange city and our not being married."

"All the more reason for you to go with me, Alicia. You'll have a wonderful time and Mr. Wilson assures me that he has more than enough room and you wouldn't want for a chaperone—his unmarried sister lives with him and so you would have another woman present. And this is the best of all, you'll be able to take in an opera by Mozart. You can get all dressed up in your fanciest clothes and I'll take you and Wilson and whomever he chooses to bring along, to dinner at one of the best restaurants in the city. The food will be marvelous, I promise. You'll have a wonderful time. Please come with me, Alicia."

"I don't think so, Adam," Alicia said. "I'm sorry to disappoint you but I'm not a big opera fan and as for Mozart, well, he means nothing to me. If you want to take me to dinner, take me to the Imperial House in town. Don't go to San Francisco. Everything you could want is here—not there. Besides, I don't even know Mr. Wilson."

"Come for dinner tonight at the house," Adam said, "you and the boys. You can meet Wilson then. I'm sure that you'll like him and he'll make you feel welcome to visit. The only thing is that he may steal you away from me since he's unmarried." Adam wanted to reassure Alicia that he cared for her.

Alicia looked at Adam and sighed. She had always thought that Adam Cartwright was a handsome man albeit aloof. Not only that, he was wealthy and educated and had fought in the war and survived whole; her two sons saw him as a hero. But she knew that Adam had been engaged before but never married and people gossiped that he never would because no woman could keep his attention long enough to get him to propose. Adam had been sparking her almost two years and Alicia understood why the gossips said what they did; he had only vaguely responded to her hints of marriage as if he didn't understand the full import behind her comments.

Alicia would often tell Adam how difficult it was to raise two fatherless boys, but instead of talking about marriage, Adam would take the boys fishing or he would heft Sully on his saddle and take the boy around the Ponderosa property for a few hours while he checked line. But Alicia had to ask Adam not to do that anymore—Timmy always cried and screamed that he wanted to go too. "Ride horsie wid Adam!" he would scream while he clenched his fists and stomped his feet in the yard when they rode away. And then Mrs. Benbow, the woman in the small house next door would look out her windows, pushing aside the lace curtains, as Alicia calmed the child by promising him anything if only he would hush.

"I don't think so, Adam. I really can't go to San Francisco, but," and although being coy and flirtatious didn't come naturally to Alicia, she thought she would try. She turned to look at Adam under lowered lids, "I hear that it's a wonderful honeymoon destination. That and New Orleans. Maybe one day I'll see one or both cities."

"You could see San Francisco now," Adam said, "if you'll come with me."

Alicia gave up. She didn't know if Adam was intentionally being dense to avoid the subject or if he really didn't understand the subtext of her words.

"No, Adam. I can't go. Please don't ask me again but will you stay for dinner with us? I haven't seen you for two days and the boys and I have missed your being around."

Adam sighed with disappointment. "I can't—it would be rude since Wilson is a guest. Why don't you and the boys come tonight for dinner instead. Since I'm leaving tomorrow, we can have a last night before I go."

"You know how raucous the boys can be. They adore Hoss and always want to wrestle with him. They wouldn't be content to just sit politely at table. I try to teach them manners but they really need a father to be an example of what a gentleman should be."

"Bring them tonight and they'll have four substitutes to teach them manners, although as far as being gentlemen, well, Hoss and Joe…" Adam smiled to show Alicia that he wasn't upset with her refusal to accompany him. "C'mon." Adam pulled her to him again. She smelled of lemon verbena, and her reddish-gold hair glistened in the sunlight slanting in the kitchen window. He smiled down at her, tilted her chin up, and kissed her on the tip of her nose. "Come to dinner tonight."

Alicia wanted Adam to ask her to marry him but he frustrated her to no end. So often she had wanted to ask him if he ever intended to marry her. Although she chastised herself for thinking such things, she wondered where Adam found his sexual satisfaction—it certainly wasn't with her. Belinda Francis a member of the church quilting bee said that she swore that she saw Adam Cartwright entering a house of ill repute, the one near the Silver Dollar Saloon—and it was in the middle of the day. "Watch that man," Mrs. Haverty said as her needle stabbed the squares of fabric, "a man like that has no shame. The sooner you get him married and in your bed, the better off you'll be!" And then all the women offered Alicia advice on how to rope Adam Cartwright and have him ask her to marry him—but none of their suggestions had worked so far.

To her, Adam was inscrutable. There were some times when they were sitting on her front porch that faced one of the least busy streets in Virginia City, that Adam seemed to go away to some unreachable place in his mind and soul. Alicia always wondered what caused him to become so distant but it happened often and then, when she would touch his arm or speak to him, he would snap back to the present and usually leave shortly afterwards. She never knew why he would become inexplicably quiet and didn't know why he wouldn't share his thoughts or worries with her. Alicia never felt that Adam truly loved her—not the way she wanted to be loved but then life never was the way one wanted. Once she and Adam were married, his quiet spells wouldn't matter so much.

"I have a large roast in the oven—I thought you'd come for dinner here but well, I'll just have leftovers instead. I suppose that since you're leaving tomorrow, you can say goodbye to me now. The boys are playing out back and you can tell them that you'll be gone for two weeks. They'll miss you. They think of you as a father, you know." One of the women had told Alicia to constantly remind Adam that he was a father figure to her sons and that it should bring out the paternal instincts in him—even if they were another man's children. He would start to think about marriage then. It would remind him that she was capable of having sons and every man wanted a son.

Adam sighed and stepped away from Alicia. "I'm sorry you and the boys won't be there tonight. I also wish you'd come with me to San Francisco but it's your choice. I'll go see the boys." Adam put on his hat and walked out the kitchen door that led to the back yard with the chicken house and the clothes line. There was a swing hanging from a tree branch that Adam had rigged a few months ago.

Alicia threw a dishtowel across the room but it was unsatisfying—no noise, not even a thud and the towel didn't cover much distance. She dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. Alicia didn't know what else to do to coerce Adam to propose. And then she picked up her coffee cup and smiled to herself. She remembered that Henrietta Fowler had told Alicia to take a short trip somewhere, anywhere, and then Adam would realize that he missed her and ask her to marry him upon her return. "After all, my dear, absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Yes, she decided as she poured herself another cup of coffee—Adam would realize how much he missed her while he was in San Francisco. She could hear Adam's and her sons' voices through the open window. It sounded like Adam was giving piggy-back rides for she could hear Sully say, "Me next, Adam. Me next to ride!" while Timmy chortled with excitement. Yes, Alicia considered, absence makes the heart grow fonder. But then, she remembered, her smile dropping away, there was also the saying—out of sight, out of mind. And Alicia's confidence faltered.

TBC


	4. IV

IV

The ride to San Francisco was more pleasant than the usual trek. The weather was cool for late spring and it had recently rained so the dust was down. Adam found that he and Louden had many common interests besides engineering, lumber and music. Louden also enjoyed poetry and fine art and he told Adam about the pieces of art he had collected when he had traveled to Europe two years ago with his sister, Sophronia, after her husband had died.

"Sophronia. That's an odd name. Greek?"

"Yes. It means 'prudent," or 'judicious'. I don't think it fits her but my poor sister, to be saddled with a name like that. That's why I call her Sophie—it was the best I could say when she was born. You see, my father—he's a lawyer and not only overly-educated and pompous, but sophisticated, worldly—traveled to Greece on his honeymoon—along with my mother, of course," Louden chuckled, "and was influenced by the culture and so when my sister was born, he named her with a Greek name. "

"Usually, from what I understand, it's the mother who names the child—of course, with the father's approval."

"Apparently, my mother agreed—or acquiesced. Besides, one doesn't argue with my father. So poor sister is burdened with a name like that."

"I think it's a beautiful name. Sophronia. It's mellifluous—flows like silk." Adam felt the name sweeten his tongue as he pronounced it. He had images of a beautiful woman with long, flowing hair, wearing a diaphanous, one shouldered gown, her limbs round and firm and dancing in the moonlight, turning and swaying, inviting the observer to join her. "And your name?"

"Oh, I have the honor of being given the surname of a deceased childhood friend of my father's—Loudenslager. I go by Louden and I'm sure you can see why." The two men laughed. "Names are such an important thing, aren't they? Now you, Adam, what a strong name you have—the first man, the primordial man, forcing all of us by his original sin to search for Eden, to attempt to return to paradise if we can find it."

"My father told me that my mother's favorite work was 'Paradise Lost' and that he was reading it to her before my birth and she decided on my name then. It is better than Lucifer." The two men chuckled

"I found the story of the naming of your brother Hoss most interesting but I think that it's best that I wasn't allowed to name Sophie since I resented her birth so much; she was such a beauty that everyone oohed and fussed over her and I was nearly forgotten. I'm sure that had it been left to me, I would have chosen the least complimentary name I could think of. But now, I don't know how I exist without her. She has become the lady of my household and even more dear to me than ever."

"Well, then you're fortunate indeed." Adam settled back into the coach seat. The night was rapidly dropping and they had been told at the last stop that it would be another four hours to a way station. Almost everyone else, two men and a large, big-boned woman had settled down to doze so both Adam and Louden knew to stop talking. But before he dozed off, Adam had images of a woman, her face lovely and seductive and then she extended her hand, inviting him to join her in a dance. He reached out for her but she only laughed and danced away while he desperately followed, unable to keep up with her light feet that barely touched the ground. But she wasn't Eve, the partner of Adam. This woman was more like Lilith, the destroyer of men, the mother of lust and desire. And the odd dream stayed with him all the next day.

It had only been a bit over half a year since Adam had been to San Francisco and he was amazed at how much new building was going on. It was exciting to see it and as Adam looked around, he imagined how he would change certain things about the new construction. The buildings seemed to lack character and he mentioned it to Louden.

"True, Adam. Builders buy one or two designs and use them for every building—they lack variety."

"They lack soul," Adam said.

Louden stopped and stared at Adam. "That's it exactly. I couldn't quite put my finger on it but that's it—they lack soul—there's no inspiration. And you know that 'inspire' means to breathe into—to give life to-and as God gave breath, life and soul to man, so an artist does the same to his work. I think you have an artist's soul, Adam."

Adam didn't know what to say. Louden seemed to understand him in a way that most people didn't and he missed intellectual conversation, something of which he hadn't really partaken since college. But all he answered was, "Thank you," and then Louden hailed a hack to take them to his house.

"This is Sophronia, my baby sister," Louden said.

Adam found he couldn't speak, he could barely breathe, Sophronia had such an impact on him. "Hardly a baby," Adam finally managed. From her expression, Adam gathered that it was the wrong thing to say; obviously flattery wouldn't win her over. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss…?" He held his hat in his hands and was slightly embarrassed to be dressed in such rustic wear; he wished he were in his best suit instead of his usual ranch wear. He also wasn't sure if he should take her hand but then she didn't offer it.

"Mrs. Cranston," she corrected. "Welcome to our home, Mr. Cartwright."

"Thank you," Adam said, his voice choking in his throat. He couldn't take his eyes from her; she entranced him. Her glossy, dark hair was styled modestly—almost sternly but a few tendrils had escaped at the nape of her neck and curled rebelliously. She wore a grey dress that only served to emphasize her pale skin and gray-blue eyes but the dress' high-neck covered her throat to her chin, a frill of lace trimming the edge, and only a simple brooch, a silver love knot, served as decoration and yet, to Adam she seemed glorious. Her eyes held a promise of delights that he wanted to taste and yet, she seemed cold at the same time. Adam told himself that he had made a mistake in coming to San Francisco and that if he had any sense, he would decline the hospitality of their home and stay at a hotel, see the performance of Mozart and then hightail it back to the Ponderosa and Alicia—but he was already tethered to Sophronia and his heart felt heavy. But then she smiled at him and he felt himself uplifted. Adam knew he would stay because he wanted to be with her, with Sophronia. She turned and motioned for him to follow her further into the house. And as he looked at her, his dream came back to him—a beautiful, intriguing, desirable woman beckoning him on to follow.

"Louden, please show our guest to the…oh, Mr. Cartwright, do you prefer the morning light or the afternoon?"

"The morning. I'm an early riser—by habit."

"Then show him to the guest room that overlooks the back garden." Sophronia looked again at Adam. "I have morning glories and a few other plants there that like the morning sun. I also prefer the morning. I find it the best part of the day. "

"Come with me, Adam," Louden said, helping Adam with his luggage. "Since we only have a cook who is also housekeeper, I'm the help around here and Sophronia does order me about."

Adam picked up his valise and turned again to Sophronia who stood with her hands modestly clasped in from of her, watching them. Adam nodded at her and she responded in kind and then turned from him and walked away. Adam followed Louden who rattled on as they climbed the stairway but at the first landing, Adam stopped and stared at the painting on the wall.

Louden noticed that the steps behind him had stopped and turned. He saw Adam staring at the painting. "It's Sophronia. She's Beatrice from 'The Divine Comedy'."

"It looks in the style of the Pre-Raphaelites and should Beatrice look like Sophronia, well, I'd willingly enter hell." Adam admired the grace and beauty of Sophronia's figure, of the tender look in her eyes and the round lushness of her lips. "The artist caught her well."

"Yes, the artist—well, the artist is Sophronia's late husband. He certainly knew her well enough—every inch of her from the paintings he did and I would hear noises from their room—well, I won't even go into it."

"They lived with you?" Adam was surprised.

"Yes. All he had was a small room in the hotel so when Sophie married him, I welcomed the couple into my home—he kept a studio in an old building in the center of the city and Sophie would take him lunch and such if she wasn't posing for him, but she almost always was. He died one afternoon as he was painting her; the nude is still unfinished." And Louden continued up the stairs but Adam gave one last look at the painting before he did. But from then on, each time he passed it, Adam would stop and admire it, not so much the artist's rendition of the subject, but the subject herself.

"Now this one," Louden said pointing out another painting, a much smaller one that hung in the hall, "is Sophie as Lilith. I don't care for it myself. I don't like the myth about Lilith but it was a gift from my brother-in-law. He owed me money—he did like to gamble—and paid with this. I have to admit that it frightens me a bit which is why I leave it here upstairs. Few people see it."

"I'll buy it from you," Adam said. He stared at the painting. Sophronia was posed, kneeling, her arms out as if inviting an embrace but there was a touch of danger in her stance. Her long, dark hair fell over her shoulders and concealed her breasts and leaves were concealing her female nether parts but her face was seductive—any man would allow her to destroy him, even he. Adam had to have the painting.

"If you like it, Adam, then it's yours. The only thing I ask is that you not take it until you leave—I don't want to answer to Sophie when she asks where the painting is."

"I can't just take it, Louden. You must allow me to pay you."

"I will not accept a nickel. It would please me greatly if you would take it, Adam. Besides," he said, looking at the painting again, "I've never liked it as I said. I would rather see a still life there. A lovely vase with flowers" And they went further down the hall until they reached Adam's room.

TBC


	5. V

**V**

Louden had told Adam to come down to his den after he put his things away. He had some ancient books that he had purchased in an odd bookstore in Rome that was musty and crowded with shelf upon shelf of books. He believed he had an original Shakespearean folio as well but still needed to have it authenticated. He was sure that Adam would be interested and wanted his opinion. Louden also told him that he has some bronzes in his den and there were also a few more about the house. Adam said that he had noticed the marvelous pieces and mentioned that there were a few at the Ponderosa. Louden said that he had noticed the bronze of the magnificent horse and then, dropping his voice, he confided to Adam that he had erotic drawings he found in ancient Greece that he had paid dearly for and that Sophie didn't know he owned; he had to keep them locked away in his safe. He also had some netsuke, small ivory carvings with exquisite detail from Japan. Some were humorous but one was very clever, he said. It was a couple involved in coitus and it was constructed of two separate figures, a man and a woman who could be joined and then separated. It had been the most expensive one of all.

So, after considering whether he would stay or go, Adam put his folded, starched shirts in the drawers along with his clean handkerchiefs and ties, closing the drawers with finality. His suit for the opera, he hung in a closet along with his business suits. Adam looked around the room. He liked the house. Unlike Sophronia, the structure was warm and welcoming with comfortable furniture and flowered wall paper. The windows were dressed with heavy drapes pulled back with decorative ties and sheers covered the windows. But Adam did see Sophronia, her influence, in every piece of furniture, the drapes, the grounds—he even swore that he could smell her scent—a fragrance that was indescribable but yet made him groan with desire.

Louden had opened the window in Adam's room saying that the room needed airing and the lace sheers fluttered gently in the breeze that blew softly. Adam wanted to change clothing hoping that by doing so, he could also change Sophronia's obvious impression of his usual dress. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and decided that he needed a shave but as he looked around, even though the room had a washstand and water, there were no towels. Adam decided he would ask Louden for towels so he went downstairs to find the den but it didn't take him long for he could hear the siblings' voices in argument behind a closed door.

Adam turned to go back upstairs—he detested eavesdroppers but then he heard Sophronia mention his name and he stopped. Despite himself, Adam listened.

"I don't care how much you like him, you had no right to invite him without asking me or at least letting me know that he was coming with you? And how am I supposed to entertain a cowboy? I know nothing about ranching. About what am I to talk with someone with such a diverse background?"

"Sophie, don't you become bored with no one to talk to? Don't you desire to have friends? I mean you're here day after day, rarely going out and just reading or doing needlework. Sophie, you're too young to lock yourself away like this and you have to admit that Adam Cartwright is handsome. I noticed how your eyes lit up when you saw him—admit it, Sophie."

"Don't change the subject; we're not talking about me. Besides, it doesn't matter that he is handsome. We're talking about how inconsiderate you are. What am I to talk about with him or shall I just sit there, silent as a stone?"

"You don't have to talk to him at all—actually, I might prefer that you don't since lately you've become such a shrew. Adam Cartwright is my guest and I will keep up the conversation. Sophie, he likes Mozart. How many people do you know who like Mozart? Oh, that's right, you don't know anyone. You slam the door on every man who's come to court you. Do you want to remain alone your whole life?"

There was a silence and Adam wondered how Sophronia looked. Was she upset? Hurt? He considered again whether or not he should leave. Then he heard her voice that already made him heat up. He wanted her to say his name again.

"Have you brought him home to be a suitor for me—to court me?" Her voice was even and calm.

"Of course not, Sophie. I have brought him home to see the performance of Mozart's 'Marriage of Figaro.' But I would think that you would enjoy some male company upon occasion and Adam is really quite an interesting man. He is intelligent and not a mere cowboy as you think; he comes from a wealthy and powerful family. He is an educated man and a man of taste. Why he showed me some of the wines in his family's cellar and let me partake of a French Bordeaux that was magnificent. I couldn't hope for a better match for you than a man like him but I did not bring him home with that in mind; Adam already has a fiancée of sorts from what I understand. I invited her along as well but according to Adam, she declined—concerned about her reputation or her children—something like that. All you women confuse me. I was a bit disappointed though as I had hoped, when Adam mentioned her, that at last you might have a friend to talk with about gardening and such."

"I know this is your home, Louden, and I appreciate that you have allowed me to stay instead of returning home to Connecticut and I will be as gracious to your guest as I can summon forth but I would have appreciated your letting me know that he was coming."

"Now Sophie, this is your home as well and you are the lady of the house. You know that and I wish that you would be kind to Adam. I think that if you gave the man a chance…"

Adam pulled himself away from the door; he felt the full weight of guilt and shame for having listened as long as he had and had it been anyone else but Sophronia involved in the conversation, he wouldn't have listened at all. He realized that in just a few hours, he had compromised his values for the woman, but worst of all, now he knew how Sophronia Canfield felt about him—and he wished he didn't.

TBC


	6. VI

VI

The next day, Adam rose early. The day was promising and he opened the drapes and looked out the open window, careful not to disturb the window box of geraniums that functioned to repel insects. Looking down, he saw Sophronia in a large straw hat and with a basket over her arm collecting flowers. She moved gracefully among the bushes and held a small pair of shears in her gloved hand; she was cutting roses. She clipped the stems and then removed the thorns with deft movements. Although Adam couldn't see her full face, just the curve of her cheek upon occasion, he was enchanted with the vision of her among the blooms. He wanted her, was determined to have her and his desire grew as he watched out the window. Then, apparently satisfied with her bounty for the day, she took a curved stone path to the house and disappeared from his view and Adam felt a sudden loss when she was gone.

Dinner the previous night had been pleasant but Sophronia had said little. Adam found himself constantly glancing at her and once in a while, she would turn her gaze on him as he was speaking and he would stammer a bit and lose his train of thought for a few seconds. He knew not to try to impress her—she would only hold that in disdain, but he wanted her attention.

"You know," Louden said to his sister, "Adam is a trained architect as well as being the one to provide the lumber for us as I told you."

"That's very interesting," was all she said and went back to eating.

Louden cleared his throat. "Sophie went to a women's college. Our father recognized her intelligence and believed in the education of women."

"You're fortunate that your father was such a free thinker," Adam said. "I noticed the piano—do you play?"

"Yes-badly. I play the piano as I speak French—just what was taught to fine, young ladies to make them palatable to society and able to win a husband of good social status. I was taught nothing of any great depth."

Silence fell and Louden nervously cleared his throat. His sister wasn't cooperating. "Sophie also loves opera, don't you Sophie? Sadly though, her favorite is Gay's 'The Beggar's Opera'." Sophronia looked across the table at her brother and he withered under her gaze.

"It's a satire on society, Louden. It has humor and bite. That's why I like Mozart so much. His operas are a delight as well, emphasizing the foibles of humans."

"Since you like opera and Mozart, I hope you will join us tomorrow night." Adam had been hoping that Sophronia would come along but hadn't until now found the right moment to ask.

"I had planned on going before…" Adam waited for her to say the words, "…you came," but Sophronia never uttered them. Instead she looked him steadily in the eye and said, "Yes, Mr. Cartwright. I do believe I will. I haven't been out for an evening in quite some time and my brother wants me to become more social; he feels that I have become a shut-in since my husband passed. And can't you see how he is trying to make me interesting to you?"

"I find you interesting enough on your own merits," Adam said. "Your brother doesn't need to say anything."

Adam noticed that she blushed slightly and the slight pinkness on her cheeks only emphasized her beauty and raised his desire for her; he wanted to hold her and kiss her and bring the flush again to her cheeks.

"My brother tells me that you have a fiancée, Mr. Cartwright," she said, looking up at Adam challenging him.

"No, I don't but I do have a lady I see on a steady basis. I tried to convince her to accompany me here—your brother said it would be fine—but she declined."

"What a shame. I think you would have a nicer time if she were with you."

"Not necessarily," Adam said. "I'm enjoying myself right now. And I do wish that you would call me Adam. I wouldn't feel like such an intrusion upon your household then."

Sophronia paused, looked at her brother, and Adam knew she was wondering if her brother had told Adam of their conversation. Then she turned back to him. "All right—Adam, it is. And to show you how welcome you are, please call me Sophronia. I would like you to feel that you are with friends."

"Oh, Sophie, must you be so formal?" Louden rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Sophronia!"

Adam cleared his throat. "It would be improper for me to be too familiar. It's too soon to use your pet name for her, Louden." The he turned to Sophronia. "But perhaps one day." He smiled and held up his wineglass as if in a toast.

Sophronia looked at Adam curiously. Then she slightly nodded and looked at him with lowered lids. Adam felt his heartbeat pick up. She seemed to be flirting with him which meant that she had an interest in him and he couldn't have hoped for more. Tomorrow was the performance of Mozart and then, the next day, Adam was to leave for home but he found that he didn't want to go—not yet. He didn't want to leave Sophronia, actually wanted to take her with him. Just how he was going to accomplish that, he didn't know, but was determined to marry her one way or another and then the following morning, when he saw her in her garden cutting flowers, his desire for her became need.

But he was disappointed later in the morning when Sophronia wasn't at breakfast. Adam and Louden were served by a full-bosomed, middle-aged cook and housekeeper, Mrs. Harold, who piled on more and more food until Adam had to protest that he couldn't possibly eat any more despite how delicious the fare was. But his mind did turn to Hoss and his renowned appetite and Adam thought how Hoss would have enjoyed the breakfast.

"Mrs. Harold is thrilled to have someone else to cook for. Sophie barely eats anything and she's up so early that usually all she has is coffee and a glass of lemon water. Mrs. Harold is always tut-tutting and asking how Sophie can live on no food."

"Sophie seems, well, not like a creature of this world," Adam responded. "I wonder if she even breathes air. She must exist on an ether that only divine creatures do."

Louden looked at Adam, his mouth open.

"I'm sorry," Adam said, realizing how he sounded. "That was foolish—I sound like some love-struck fool. I suppose that I tend to wax poetic, foolishly but poetically when I meet a beautiful woman."

"Yes, Sophie is beautiful-even though she is my sister, I can see it, and she certainly has had more than her share of men calling—why she married who she did, well, I'll never understand."

"I know she married an artist but not who he was. The paintings are signed with some indecipherable swirl."

"A man almost three times her age—Mitchell Cranston. He claimed that Sophronia was his muse, his inspiration but all he did once he met her was paint her again and again—mainly in the nude. Every so often he would have her in a costume, usually as a Greek dancer, a Bacchante or some literary character, usually from a poem."

Adam remembered his dream of the dark-haired seductive woman who danced before him and so he asked Louden if there were any more paintings he could see.

"Well, there's the one you saw as you went up the stairs, then the smaller one and I believe there are one or two in the attic as well as the unfinished one, but most are in private homes. I really do think that's the reason Sophie doesn't go out much—someone may recognize her. I can't tell you how embarrassed I was when I was invited into an engineer's home and there, on the wall of his den was a painting of my sister in all her glory, lying completely exposed like an odalisque in a harem. Well, I'm sure I behaved like an idiot trying to avoid looking at this painting! He said his wife wouldn't allow it in her house so he had to confine the painting to his den. He started talking most lasciviously about the model, how much he would like to meet her and bed her and I wanted to call him out to defend Sophie's honor but then, well, I would have had to tell him she was my sister. This man was in love with the woman in the painting he said, and I should have challenged him—but he would have killed me as I am a most dreadful shot and if he had chosen swords, I might as well have just taken it and stabbed myself through the breast to save him any trouble."

Both men laughed but Adam now wanted more than ever to see one of the paintings of Sophie. "I would like to see them, perhaps to purchase another one for the Ponderosa.

Louden looked at Adam, obviously surprised. "Why, Adam, be careful. You haven't seen them yet and to be perfectly honest, I don't know that I, myself, want to see them; seeing my own sister that way makes me uncomfortable. I never told Sophie about the incident of the nude but it was a few weeks before I could look her in the eye comfortably. But I tell you what—before we dress for the opera, I'll take you up into the attic. Sophie will be in her room for hours dressing for the opera. She mustn't know that I'm showing you—it would make things awkward. I'll point them out and you can look and see If you would like to purchase one. I'll be the go-between. After all, Sophie owns those pieces or I would hand over the whole group to you and pay you to take them out of my attic." Louden was pleased at Adam's interest in his sister; he couldn't have wanted anything better than to have Adam Cartwright whom he admired, in love with his sister and perhaps marry her. As long as he didn't take her away.

TBC


	7. VII

**VII**

Adam met with the people of Bronson and Sons. Louden had written a report on the quality of the lumber that the Ponderosa was preparing to ship; it was of highest quality, Louden had written and that morning he turned in his report. Mr. Bronson himself welcomed Adam and told him that he hoped that his company and the Ponderosa would do business for many years; the arrangement would make them both wealthy men and help to expand the west coast that was turning into a gold mine—not literally, Bronson had laughed-but people were flooding the city and there were homes to be built as well as housing for businesses.

Mr. Bronson showed Adam their plans and he was impressed with the scope but not with the lack of originality but then, he reminded himself, the Ponderosa was only supplying the lumber and after it was purchased, well, what was accomplished with it was none of his business.

But Adam had trouble concentrating on the conversation as his mind kept turning to Sophronia and the paintings. He wanted to see if her actual person matched his imagination. Bronson and the other men in the meeting insisted on treating Adam to lunch in a restaurant with a high ceiling and crystal chandeliers. There were tables of well-dressed men and ladies enjoying the fine food and the maître d' knew Mr. Bronson by name and showed his party to one of the best tables in the grand room, bowing and smiling. So Adam feasted on champagne, caviar and filet mignon with truffles as well as ending the full meal with crème brulee and then coffee and cigars But Adam had shown restraint and ate sparingly. He found that Mr. Bronson and his officers were pleasant men and they regretted that Louden Wilson hadn't been able to join them but he was on site at their newest construction overseeing.

Finally the meal was finished and Adam, after shaking hands and exchanging thank-yous and other social amenities, headed out to the street. Mr. Bronson offered to hire a cab for him to convey him to Wilson's house but Adam declined, claiming to want to walk off the meal but he actually wanted to consider what he would say to Sophronia should they meet alone in the house.

Adam pulled out his pocket watch. It was almost 3:00. Adam hadn't realized how long they had been talking in the restaurant, so as he walked, his mind was filled with Sophronia. He had enjoyed the works of art that Louden had showed him the night before, the bronzes, the books and drawings and even the netsukes, but more than anything else, he wanted to see the paintings of Sophronia. He walked down the streets not even noticing the others on the sidewalk except to avoid crashing into them. The noises and the smells never reached his consciousness as he maneuvered down the sidewalk until he was in front of Wilson's house which had a picket fence and the walkway was lined with rose bushes of pink and white. They put him in mind of Sophronia, her pale, white skin, the flush of her cheeks and the rosiness of her lips.

Adam used the doorknocker and Mrs. Harold answered the door. Adam tipped his hat.

"Now, Mr. Cartwright," Mrs. Harold said, blushing slightly, "you needn't to tip your hat to me. I ain't no proper lady. Come in, come in." She stepped aside and Adam entered and she took his hat.

"There's some coffee on the stove. Would you be liking any?"

"Actually," Adam said, "that would be nice." He looked around and listened for sounds that would indicate Sophronia was near. "Is Mrs. Cranston home?" Adam followed Mrs. Harold to the sitting room where she indicated that he be seated.

"Oh, yes, she's upstairs bathing and preparing for tonight. I do so love to see her happy—why she was even singing when I left her. It's been so long."

Adam smiled at the news, hoping he was the cause of Sophronia's raised spirits, and Mrs. Harold left him alone. He walked around and picked up a Chinese jar from off the mantle. He examined it and to his eyes, it looked to be quite old. He looked around. Over the mantle was a landscape that went beyond the mere representation of a river and trees; the power of nature was represented in the way the water churned and the trees stood against the background of magnificent mountains and the sky. It was beautifully done and signed with the same swirl as the paintings of Sophronia. Cranston did have talent, Adam begrudgingly admitted.

"Here's your coffee, Mr. Cartwright. Would you like some cookies as there will be no dinner? Mister Wilson said that you'll be eating out tonight." She stood waiting. Adam declined, explaining about his large lunch and then Mrs. Harold excused herself, saying that she had to go back to steaming Mrs. Cranston's dress for the evening and smiling, she left Adam alone.

He drank his coffee and considered that he was basically alone. The paintings in the attic drew him and although he felt like a sneak thief, Adam found himself at the top of the stairs that led into the large attic. He tried the door and it opened. Of course, Adam thought, why would they lock the attic? From people like me, he added.

Nevertheless, he entered the attic and looked around at the few pieces of furniture that were stored there along with some books and trunks and some lamps. Then he saw what could be paintings stacked on their sides with a sheet thrown over them for protection from dust and sun that streamed in through the attic windows. Adam walked over to them and pulled off the sheet, his heart pounding. There were three paintings of various sizes. He pushed the paintings back and looked at the first one. Sophronia was the model, a young woman dressed in medieval clothing, and sitting in a field of flowers. Her clothing was in disarray, her hair partly tumbled about her shoulders and in her hands, she held a small flower; it was a forget-me-not. In the distance, a man was walking away through the meadow toward a horse tied in the distance.

It was easy for Adam to decipher the symbolism; the young beauty had just been deflowered by the man walking away and the flower represented her hope that he would not just use her and forget her but the flower was already beginning to wilt. Cranston, of course, had painted his wife with a loving touch and perfectly captured the eyes of a woman who realizes that she has not won the heart of the man she loves despite the sacrifice of her honor.

Adam flipped the painting toward him and looked at the next one. It did not have Sophronia in it—another landscape so Adam flipped it forward as well and then he saw the unfinished nude and he felt acute longing for the woman in the painting. The background wasn't complete, basically just the beginnings of what looked like an artist's studio, nor were all the small details of Sophronia's figure filled in but it was enough to cause Adam to break out in a sweat. She was glorious. Cranston had painted his wife with all the colors and delicate strokes that emphasized her delicacy of complexion but it was always her face, the expression that drew in the viewer in and in this painting, it looked as if the artist's model was going to rise from the cloth-draped couch and approach the artist, the man who was caressing her with his eyes. Cranston was clever as well. In viewing the painting, a man would feel as if the woman was going to step out of the painting and live in his fantasies and dreams. Completed, the painting could be easily sold to some lonely man-and he realized then that he was lonely. Adam knew that Alicia didn't satisfy his soul or his desires. He had felt that he could suppress those yearnings and live a happy life with her and her sons but now he knew he couldn't. Not since meeting Sophronia Cranston; she had turned his world upside down.

Adam no longer wanted the paintings. After all, for what would they serve except to be a constant reminder of the woman he met in San Francisco? No, he wanted the flesh and blood woman, to hold her, caress her and have her love him. And he wanted to hear her say his name spoken with passion and in the midst of desire.

Adam put the sheet back over the paintings and breathing heavily, he left the attic and went to his room. He needed to recover his balance before the opera tonight.

When Louden came home, it seemed that he had forgotten all about showing the paintings to Adam; Adam decided not to say anything for then he would have to admit that he had already climbed to the attic and looked at them. Besides, he didn't want to see the nude painting of Sophronia in the presence of someone else; his reaction world have been too obvious and he would have given himself away, revealed his feelings for Louden's sister. He wasn't yet ready to do that and when he did, it would be to Sophronia herself.

TBC


	8. VIII

**VIII**

"Just like Sophronia," Louden said as he paced back and forth. "She always makes me wait on her. If we miss that curtain…"

But Louden stopped because Sophronia came down the stairs, Mrs. Harold following, obviously satisfied with the end product of her ministrations. Adam rose from his chair; Sophronia looked more beautiful to him than she had in any of her paintings. He wasn't aware of it, but he had been holding his breath at the sight of her. He quickly let it out.

"I'm sorry that I'm so late," she said, "but we shouldn't miss the curtain."

"Well worth waiting for," Adam said. Mrs. Harold handed him Sophronia's wrap and Adam helped her with it. He fought the desire to kiss Sophronia's white neck and shoulders as she stood before him since the dark-green, silk dress that she wore exposed them. Adam knew then that he had lost all resistance when it came to Sophronia Cranston and as he inhaled her perfume, the dark scent only encouraged him more. "You look lovely," he almost whispered intimately.

"Thank you…Adam," she said, turning her head to look at him. He drew in a shaky breath as she said, "I was hoping you would approve. I dressed with you in mind." And then she turned and took her brother's arm. Adam put on his bowler and pulling his vest down and back into place followed them out to where a hired hack was waiting. She had said that she dressed for him and he wasn't sure what to make of it. In the carriage, Adam sat opposite Sophronia and Louden so he could better watch her. And he did. He noticed every nuance of expression as Louden chatted away about the opera and she glanced to her brother, Adam and then out the window. Louden asked Adam if he used a libretto. Louden had heard that this one was beautifully written.

"Sophie eschews them—says they're a bother but I believe that they help so much. What do you think, Adam? Adam?"

Adam turned to look at Louden. He had been entranced by the gentle upsweep of Sophronia's hair, how the pearls she wore dangling from her ears glowed against her white skin and then, when she turned to look at him with her pale, gray-blue eyes lined with sooty lashes, he wished that he and she were alone. Oh, what he would do to her as her clutched her to him. But they weren't alone and Louden had asked him a question. He must have looked confused because Louden repeated his question while Sophronia looked on with an amused expression.

"I think it's a matter of choice. So much of opera is acting that it's relatively easy to follow the plot-one character kills another on stage, a woman grieves for her lost love, it's easy to understand. I have purchased them before but they often end up on the theatre floor or rolled up in my pocket and forgotten until the jacket is brushed to wear again."

"Now don't give support to Sophronia's argument that librettos are a waste of money. She's already insufferable in espousing her opinions!"

Adam smiled and Sophronia smiled back at him. The rest of the ride to the opera house was a blur to Adam as all he could think of was the woman sitting across from him. And when Adam lifted her down from the hack, his hands clasping her narrow waist, she thanked him gently and rearranged her wrap and then, much to Adam's delight, she took his arm and smiled up at him as Louden followed behind. And even though Adam noticed nothing nor anyone else as a basis of comparison, Sophronia was the most beautiful, the most enthralling woman he had ever seen and as they sat in the box, Adam watched Sophronia more than the performers on the stage.

She seemed to enjoy the opera and Adam watched the display of emotions that crossed her face as she watched, the amused smile and small laugh that the antics elicited from her. And Adam was completely bewitched. After the final curtain, as they were in the lobby, Louden was stopped by someone calling his name. Adam and Sophronia stopped as well and a man about Louden's age came up to them, working his way through the departing crowd.

"Why Barry," Louden said, extending his hand to a well-dressed young man, "I didn't know you were here tonight. I had a whole box and there were two empty seats. You could have sat with us?" Louden noticed Barry glancing at Adam and then at Sophronia and that Barry smiled at his sister.

"Let me introduce Adam Cartwright from Nevada." Louden smiled as he turned to Adam and then back to his friend. They shook hands and said it was nice to meet each other but Barry kept looking at Sophronia and then at Adam as if trying to ascertain their relationship.

"So nice to see you, Sophronia," Barry said. "Had I know that you wanted to see the opera, why I could have escorted you."

Adam looked back and forth between the two and Sophronia surprised him. She reached out for Adam's arm and said, "Why thank you, Barry, but Mr. Cartwright…I mean, Adam, has been kind enough to squire me."

"Oh, well, of course. I see that…well, Louden, I am going to dinner with some friends-why don't you join us? There will be some unclaimed young ladies—and of course, you two are both invited as well. I hope that you will come along, Mr. Cartwright and you as well, Sophronia. It has been so long since I've seen you. The last time I was over at the house, you suffered from 'un mal de tête' and kept to your room."

"Yes, that was a shame but I'm afraid that tonight I am fatigué. Sophronia looked up at Adam. "If it's not too much of an imposition, would you see me home, Adam? I don't care for a party tonight. If you would like to join Louden and his friends, I am capable of making my way by myself."

"Now, Sophie," Louden said, "don't get peevish—everyone will think you're a dried-up old maid who never enjoys a party."

"I for one," Barry said, "would never think that. Won't you come, Sophronia? Just your presence would add so much to my enjoyment to the evening."

Adam noticed how love-sick Barry looked and wondered if he had the same idiotic, moon-eyed look on his own face when he looked at Sophronia as Barry did.

"Yes," Louden added, "You should get out among people and it will be a lively evening. Besides, you shouldn't deny Adam a good time his last night in San Francisco."

"No, really," Adam said," I don't mind missing out on the festivities. I am quite tired myself. But I do thank you both for the invitation. It's very generous." He turned to Sophronia. "I would be honored to see you home, Sophronia."

Louden looked puzzled for a minute, as if deciding which course of action to take. "If you don't mind, Adam…thank you for seeing my sister home safely." Then Louden left with Barry and a few other men who joined them outside the opera house.

"I'll hail us a hack," Adam said as he and Sophronia stepped into the chilly night.

"Why don't we walk a bit. It's a beautiful night, don't you think?" She looked up at the sky. "It's not as easy to see the stars in a city, is it, Adam? All the lights here, the street lamps, the windows glowing, they try to keep us chained to the earth and suffuse the lights of heaven."

Adam looked up at the night sky:

"O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright.  
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night  
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;  
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear…  
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!  
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

He turned to look at Sophie as she held onto his arm. "You, Sophie, make the night beautiful—make life beautiful. And you are the only light I need."

Sophronia looked up at the dark haired man who had arrived looking like a common ranch hand and who could also quote Shakespeare; he was rare indeed, she thought and she didn't want to lose him, to have him leave tomorrow and say goodbye forever. "You don't need to flatter me, you know. I am fully aware of my reflection and despite what my husband used to say, 'Too beautiful for words so my paintings will have to suffice.' I am hardly a beauty."

"Then your mirror doesn't reflect accurately for you are stunning, indeed."

Sophronia looked away and Adam feared he had offended her but then she turned and seemed eager and short of breath. "Are you hungry, Adam? Just up the block is a lovely, little restaurant. It's not too grand or too elegant and we are overdressed, but the food is divine and they have wonderful wines—not that I know that much about wines—but I would bow to your knowledge. Louden says that your family had some superior wines."

Adam agreed that he would like a small dinner and said that he was no judge of good wine but relied more on the age and the price to decide if it was a fine wine. They laughed together and Sophronia told him that she found his candor more charming than any words of flattery that men gave her.

Adam enjoyed the dinner with Sophronia. She had been correct; they were overdressed but it only served to illustrate how Sophronia seemed a creature from another world. She stood out among the rest of the patrons. And the waiters knew her as Mrs. Cranston and welcomed her after her absence of so long. She was gracious and thanked them and then Adam noticed the large painting over the wine racks in the back of the dining room; it was Sophronia depicted as an Italian peasant, a basket of grapes held propped on one hip, her skirts lifted and tucked in the waistband of her full skirt as the women wore when they crushed grapes with their feet. Her round, shapely legs were exposed to above her knees and her ankles were elegant and her feet well-formed. Her blouse was off one shoulder, showing its elegant flow into her neck and throat.

Sophronia noticed the direction of Adam's gaze. She turned to look at the painting as well.

"It was a commission but my husband gave it to the owner of this place, gratis. He said that he had received so much pleasure from the food and wine that he couldn't think of any other way to repay them. We used to sit here, my husband and all the others of the artists and writers, male and female, and drink and smoke and pontificate until the early morning. I don't care for the painting that much though," she said.

"Your husband sounds like a kind and generous man. From the way he painted you, I mean with such obvious devotion, he must have loved you very much."

"Yes," was all she said. And then the waiter came proffering two bottles of wine. And it was then that Sophronia realized that Adam Cartwright knew more about many things than he let on for he chose a wine that met with exuberant approval from the waiter. She felt herself beginning to like and respect Adam even more despite the fact that he was too handsome, too masculine and disturbed her sense of control that she had finally regained over her life. Sophronia didn't quite know how to deal with Adam—he was a conundrum, a mixture of so many attributes, but she couldn't deny her attraction to him.

The evening went on and they talked about a variety of things. Sophronia asked Adam about his family, his ranch, his lovers, his thoughts and as he talked and revealed himself to her, she found herself living his life with him. He described the events he had survived, not having a mother and then the unhealed wound of the loss of Inger, the woman he came to love as a true mother and how he had grown up lonely and afraid. Adam revealed to Sophronia how he wanted to be off on his own at college and yet he missed his family desperately. He related his trip to Europe on his "Grand Tour" that his family, including Hop Sing, had sacrificed to give him. She laughed as he told her about his brothers and all the foolish things they had done and she cried, the tears falling silently down her cheeks as he related the horrors of war.

"Perhaps, one day, "she said quietly, "you'll be telling another woman about me, about some woman you thought you loved once."

"Thought? Why, Sophie, I am falling in love with you—no, I am in love with you." They were holding hands across the small table and Adam put her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"You don't know me, Adam. You're just in love with the woman in the paintings. Louden told me how much you admired them. He finally confessed that he gave you the one of Lilith; he said you wanted to buy it. Those women aren't me, Adam. The Friar told Romeo, something along the lines of, men's love lies not truly in their hearts but in their eyes. Did you fall in love with what you saw, Adam?"

"Ah, Sophie, there's another line by Marlowe from his wedding poem that Shakespeare borrowed, 'Whoever loved that loved not at first sight?' "

And she smiled at the man across from her. Perhaps Adam was right for she loved his looks, his dominating personality, his simmering propensity for violence and passion which made her quiver in anticipation of his mouth on hers-and now that she knew him, she adored him.

"Whoever indeed?" she managed to say. And then Adam smiled at her in the way only he could and Sophie was as lost as she had ever been; she knew no way out except to follow Adam and so she decided she would. He would lead her out of her dark loneliness and into the light.

TBC


	9. IX

**IX**

"But, Louden," Sophronia said, "I hoped you would be happy for me. We had talked so long at Martelli's, Adam and I, getting to know one another that it, well, it just seemed so natural to fall into one another's arms once we came back home. And we are going to be married—today. We want you to come with us, to be our witness and to give us your blessings. Please, Louden—don't be upset."

Adam stood behind Sophie, his shirt not quite buttoned up all the way. He had wanted to be the one to tell Louden about their indiscretion and their decision to marry but Sophie had begged him to let her; she claimed that she knew Louden's temperament better than he and how to handle her brother.

"But it should be me, Sophie. I am the one…" Adam wanted to bull his way through and give Louden the true impression that he didn't care one way or another how Louden felt about him and Sophronia—he was going to marry her and there would be no discussion.

"Please, Adam, please…" Sophie clung to him and Adam couldn't do anything but allow her to have her way. She was obviously upset and in earnest and she did know her brother well and better than he. And Adam felt that he was really an interloper and had behaved badly in the house of his host and for that, he was ashamed but not of Sophie—he wasn't ashamed to have been with Sophie.

After coming home from the restaurant, it was late and the house was quiet as they climbed the stairs. As Adam said goodnight to Sophronia at her bedroom door, she had, much to Adam's surprise and delight, reached out for his hand and after first lifting it to her mouth and kissing it, she led Adam into her bedroom. He stood and watched as her clothing dropped away in the light from the moon and the stars; she was an alabaster goddess standing before him. His passions aroused, Adam took her into his arms, murmured that she was far more beautiful than any artist's talents could capture and made her his. And Sophronia was a willing thrall, submitting her will to his.

Early that morning, it was Mrs. Handley's scream of horror and the clattering of a silver tray and the breaking of china as she dropped Sophie's breakfast tray that started the confrontation. Mrs. Handley, upon innocently entering Sophie's room with her breakfast tray since she had slept so late, saw the two lovers in flagrante delicto. She was horrified and come hurriedly down the stairs as Louden came running out of the dining room to discover the cause of the commotion.

"Mrs. Handley," Louden said when he saw the ashen face of the woman, "whatever is the matter?"

"Oh, Mr. Wilson…Miss Sophie…Mr. Cartwright…oh, what I have just seen…oh, my word. I can't even describe…oh, my! Miss Sophie was…oh, my! And Mr. Cartwright! I need to sit down! I believe I shall faint!"

"Here, Mrs. Handley," Louden said, helping the large woman with the heaving bosom to an overstuffed chair in the sitting room, "I'll bring you some water." Louden looked toward the stairs and Sophie was lightly running down them, still tying the sash of her wrap, the fabric flapping around her legs.

"Mrs. Handley," Sophie said, "I am so very sorry. I should have locked my door. I am so sorry."

"Locked your door?" Louden said shocked at his sister's apparent lack of judgment as to what was right and what was wrong. He then saw Adam Cartwright coming down the stairs barefooted but with his trousers on, buttoning up his wrinkled, white dress shirt from the opera. "You think that as long as no one sees you in some act of debauchery that it's all right? As long as your door is locked?"

"Oh, my," Mrs. Handley said. "I must go. Excuse me. I'll be in the kitchen." She stood up, and supporting herself with the furniture and then the wall, she left the room muttering, "What I have seen…"

"Look at the state of that poor woman! And Adam…a guest in my home and to behave in such a way as to dishonor my sister!"

"Louden," Sophie said, "listen to me. Don't blame Adam and he did not 'dishonor' me."

"Sophie," Adam said, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her upper arms, "let me talk to your brother alone. I am to blame—I behaved like a cad."

"No, Adam. Please, I was the one who pulled you into my bedroom. I seduced you, not you, me."

"Sophie, I was a most willing participant and I so easily capitulated, giving no thought to anyone's honor—not even yours. I owe your brother an apology."

"You owe me more than that?" Louden shouted. He paced back and forth in his dressing gown, angrily puffing air.

"Louden, please," Sophie said. And then she told him that she and Adam were going to be married. Adam waited, watching to see what would happen. If necessary, he knew that he might have to land a solid fist on Louden's jaw.

"But my honor, Sophie and yours…why Adam has defiled you. At least it seems so although I have no interest in the details. I mean you are my sister living in my home and I am your male relative, your brother. I must do something! And poor Mrs. Handley—the poor, poor woman! I must do something about it all!"

"If you insist, Louden," Adam said. "Will it be pistols, swords, fisticuffs, caustic, deadly insults? Your choice, Louden."

Louden stopped talking and stared at Adam who stood looking serious-and then he laughed and Adam relaxed and smiled.

Louden clapped Adam on the shoulder. "I suppose that I can forgive you and Sophie your discretion if you are going to be married. You said it would be today?"

"Today," Sophie said looking at Adam who smiled gently at her. He had never before been so gloriously in love with a woman such as his Sophie.

"Well," Louden said, "I suppose we had better get a bit of breakfast then and dress for a wedding. The notary or a minister?"

"A notary," Adam said. "Sophie doesn't seem to care for tradition and ritual."

"Oh, Louden knows that, Adam," she said. "He found that out when I began to pose for Mitchell before we were married. Louden thought it was scandalous!"

"Now, Sophie, don't make fun of me. You are my baby sister and I am happy for you and Adam both," Louden said and bent down to kiss her cheek. "You need to bathe, Sophie. You smell as if you've been used." Louden crinkled his nose.

"Well, I have been," she said laughing and then reached up for Adam's neck, pulled his head down and kissed him and it was all Adam could do not to grab her and use her on the sofa. She smiled at him and then left the two men and it seemed to Adam that she practically floated up the stairs and Adam heard her singing as she went to her room.

"What about your family, Adam? What will they say?"

Adam looked at Louden and really considered it for the first time. "I hope they'll be happy for me. I don't know that they will understand but I don't really care. I love Sophie…you must believe that. I adore her. She is the embodiment of every grace, everything I have ever dreamed of in a woman—intelligent, witty beautiful—and she loves me. I had only imagined a woman like her in my fantasies and dreams and to have and hold someone like her in my arms—it's more than I had ever hoped."

"Yes, my sister is…remarkable. Truly so." Louden sighed deeply. "Well, how about a bit of breakfast? It's probably cold by now but the coffee is still hot."

"Yes," Adam said. "I could use some coffee." And the two men went into the dining room, the wood floor cold under Adam's bare feet until he felt again the warmth of the Aubusson carpet in the dining room. He considered how in just a few days his life had so completely changed.

TBC


	10. X

**X**

"And so," Sophronia said as she lay with her head on Adam's chest, one arm thrown across him, "my parents finally gave in and allowed me to come out to San Francisco; they didn't quite believe that Louden would be an appropriate guardian, knowing him as they did, and I suppose he wasn't, but Hartford was so dull and my parents had hopes that I would marry the son of one of our family friends. I would have died of boredom, I'm certain." She playfully twirled the hair on his chest. "And now, I'm glad that I made that decision so long ago because I'm here with you. I'm Mrs. Adam Cartwright." She kissed his chest and sighed in contentment. Adam satisfied her body and her soul.

It was going on the third day of their hasty marriage and the newlyweds had not yet left Sophie's bedroom. Mrs. Handley would bring up trays of food and never meet Adam's eyes when he opened the door to take the tray from her or answer when Sophie would call out her thanks. When he and Sophie finished eating, Adam would place the tray outside the door, "like in a fine hotel," he said, laughing, and Mrs. Handley would take it away. Adam also found stacks of clean towels outside the door and he would leave the soiled linens in their place.

"Why do you say Louden wasn't a proper guardian?" Adam asked, stroking her arm gently with the tips of the fingers of one hand.

"Well, our little peccadillo should be proof of that!" She laughed and Adam chuckled. "But actually, it was that I was out one afternoon and a man approached me and told me he was an artist and that I was lovely and wanted me to pose for him. I was flattered and did but when he asked me to undress, well, I was appalled and was going to storm out but then I decided to do it. That was Mitchell and we were married a few months after. At first we lived in a seedy little hotel and spent evenings with all the other artists of San Francisco drinking wine and eating bruschetta at Martelli's and I became quite the bohemian. Oh, Adam, you should have seen me! I wore long Mexican shawls and embroidered blouses with my hair free. I had all these adopted views on politics and free love, reading Sappho and discussing Plato and his idea of perfect love-anything Mitchell espoused, I did as well. You should have heard me go on about…"

"I don't want to hear any more, Sophie."

"What?" She pulled herself up to look down at him and Adam had an odd, pained expression. "What is it, Adam?"

"I don't want to be reminded that you…that you loved another man and that you discussed such things. I know about free thinking—I was part of many discussions of the sort in college but that is all in the past. I want our love to be pure and honest and as far as I'm concerned, our lives started with that first night together. I don't want to be reminded there was someone else—and that you loved him and spent days and nights with him. Did you prefer that life, Sophie? Do you prefer that over what I have to give you?"

"No, I don't," she said. "If you knew what my life was really like—oh, I love you, Adam, and were I to have met you years ago…I can't believe that there was ever any room in my heart for anyone but you." And she bent down to kiss him, afraid that she hadn't convinced him of the depth of her love for him, her hair falling over them and making it seem that they were the only two humans left in existence. "How can I prove myself to you," she whispered. "I have given myself to you fully. I had thought that would show my trust in your love for me and mine for you. But if you want more from me, take it. I'm yours completely, your wife, your friend and your lover—yours to do with as you please."

And with that, Adam was satisfied and needed nothing else but her. Her past meant nothing.

"Louden," Sophie said, "I would like to talk to you."

Louden looked up from his book. He was in his den reading after dinner when Sophie had knocked, turned the knob and walked in. "Please don't tell me that you're going to keep Adam from playing cards with me again tonight. I swear, Sophie! He has brought out the wanton woman in you." But Louden said it lightly. It was glorious seeing Sophie so happy, laughing and becoming part of life again and he had his new brother-in-law to thank.

Sophie sat down on a chair opposite his and gathered herself.

Louden put down his book and leaned forward. "What is it, Sophie? Something is wrong."

"No, nothing's wrong. I just want to tell you that Adam and I will be leaving for Nevada tomorrow. He feels he has been away too long—it's been almost a month and he needs to return. His father wired him that there's been some trouble—some disease among the cattle."

"But, Sophie, you can't be serious about leaving. I told Adam that Mr. Bronson wants to hire him as an architect-Adam has such good ideas, why he's brilliant! And he can make more money here than working on a ranch and not dirty his hands. Don't tell me he's refused Bronson's offer!"

"Yes, he has. Money doesn't mean that much to him. We've been discussing it and Adam has decided that we will go live on the ranch, the Ponderosa. He told me about it and…well, I think it will be lovely. The way he describes it to me, it seems like Eden—so to speak." Sophie smiled at her little reference to Adam and Eden but Louden didn't smile.

"You, Sophie? You living on a ranch? Sophie, you know you won't be happy." Louden stood up and began to pace. He was agitated. He thought he had had it all worked out. Adam would work for Bronson and Sons and he and Sophie would live here in San Francisco with him. Louden didn't like being alone and he wanted them to stay. And he had come to rely so much upon his sister. She was a barrier between him and unpleasant aspects of life and he could talk to her about anything and never judge him.

"I know it seems implausible seeing how I've lived in the past, but well, it's Adam's life and when I married him, I married that as well. I tried to convince him to stay here but he is single-minded—it's part of why I love him, I suppose. I want to share his life with him and I'll adjust to life on a ranch."

"Let Adam go alone, Sophie. You stay here. You married him too quickly. You can't possibly love him. I should shoot him or hire someone to do it and have the whole thing over with."

Sophie stood up and faced Louden. "Louden, what foolishness are you talking! You want to kill my husband? You, Louden?"

"Oh, Sophie," Louden said, looking contrite. "I don't mean it—well, in a way I do. I should have shot him for dishonoring you. Then we wouldn't be having this conversation. You would have had your pleasure and that would be that. I have to admit that I like Adam very much but….oh, Sophie, please don't go. I won't be able to bear this house without you. Didn't I put up with Mitchell and all his eccentricities? He always had dried paint under his fingernails." Louden shivered in distaste. "Didn't I allow both of you total freedom of my home? Why can't you convince Adam to stay? Use your…wiles, Sophie. He is mad about you. You could withhold your favors from him—he'd capitulate soon enough, I'm sure—come crawling on his hands and knees with his tongue lolling."

"Louden, that's enough. I won't hear anymore. I do love him, Louden, and you have no idea how in just the past few weeks he has come to mean everything to me. I would sacrifice anything and everything for him including myself. I'm sorry, Louden, that you feel this way but I am leaving with him. You need to accept it." Sophie began to walk out of the room. She wanted to race up the stairs and throw herself into Adam's arms, to feel the heat of his body against hers, to hear his voice speak her name and to have her mouth possessed by his as her body and soul were possessed by him so she would be convinced that she was right in leaving her brother behind. Sophie knew she had never felt such an overwhelming passion, such a primitive need for another person but her love for Adam was tinged with sadness; she would have to leave all behind her to follow him—but follow him she would.

"Sophie, please," Louden said calling after her. She turned to him. "Can't you convince him to stay?"

"No, I can't. I tried, Louden, but he has a sense of loyalty to his family that I underestimated although I should have known. And knowing Adam as I do, should I deny him…anything, he would only grow cold and turn to someone else. He won't be manipulated and I wouldn't even try—I would lose, not he."

"But, Sophie, since he loves you, if you stay, won't he stay with you?"

She laughed derisively and then shook her head. "You don't understand him at all. If I said I was staying behind. Adam would throw me over his shoulder and carry me off and give me a quick smack on my buttocks as a reminder of who is in charge. But I wouldn't stay anyway—I couldn't do without him. I can't exist without him anymore, Louden. I wish you could understand but…" And Sophie left her brother standing in his den and hurried up the stairs to Adam. He was still upset after their argument and she hoped he wasn't angry with her; she wouldn't be able to bear it if he was.

Adam went through his clothes. If they were leaving early tomorrow, he needed to start packing. He angrily threw his clothes in his portmanteau and then stopped and paced the room. He hadn't slept in the bed since the night he first spent with Sophie. She wanted to stay in San Francisco and had argued with him about leaving. Adam told her that he couldn't imagine staying in San Francisco and working as an architect for Bronson and Sons. They had no vision and he would be confined to designing more of the same type of boxes that they were building now. He tried to explain to Sophie that his soul would die in the city; he yearned to be back where it wasn't crowded and where a man could actually breathe. Didn't Sophie understand?

And Sophie told him that as he had family, so did she. Louden was her family and he had allowed her to stay with him and to escape her parents and their plans for her. She owed her brother a great deal.

"Do you actually think, Sophie, that I would live on the largesse of your brother? Even if we stayed in San Francisco, we wouldn't live here—we would have our own house."

"But you want me to live with your family on that ranch. Why not here with Louden?"

"It's not 'that ranch.' It's the Ponderosa. It's the product of hard work and our sweat and our blood and I designed the final structure—it's a part of me just as you are now and I want you there. I want you to share that life with me, Sophie. It's what I am."

She said nothing, just sat heavily on the bed. Adam dropped to one knee in front of her and held her small hands in his.

"Look at me, Sophie."

She raised her eyes and looked at him and she knew it was hopeless; she would go with him.

"Please. I love you and I want you to share my life. Louden can come visit us or you, him."

"Yes," she said. She removed one of her hands from his and touched his cheek. He was so achingly beautiful. "You should be the model for a painting of Sir Lancelot, the knight that the Lady of Shalott saw reflected in her mirrors. 'The mirror cracked from side to side—the curse is come upon me…' You have taken away the shadows, Adam, but now I see things all too clearly and it is a curse. Lancelot had coal-black curls as well." Sophie played with the waves that ran through Adam's hair. "If Lancelot looked like you, I can see why she died of love for him."

Adam kissed her hand that he still held. "Sophie, don't be so morose. See this as the start of your new life—this is a beginning."

"Yes, Adam." Sophie stood up and Adam rose. He wanted Sophie to be more than just resigned to going with him, he wanted her to be eager and happy but he realized that he was asking too much and it made him wonder if he shouldn't stay longer, to give her more time. But he yearned to return to the Ponderosa—it called to him just as a lover would, just as Sophie did. He had to have them both.

"I'll tell Louden," Adam said. "He should hear it from me."

"No, please," Sophie said, putting her hands on Adam's chest to stop him. "I should be the one-please, Adam. I'll talk to him."

"Sophie. Let me talk to him man to man."

"Let me talk to him as a sister and her beloved brother. Please, Adam. Please."

So Adam had conceded and now he was angry with himself. But there was a knock on the door and then Sophie walked in.

"I told him, Adam." And she ran to him and he clasped her to him, kissing her hair as she hugged him. Adam knew how it must have pained her.

"I love you, Sophie. I'll show you every minute of every day."

"I know, Adam," she said, her voice strangled. "But it doesn't matter because I love you—I need you now and I couldn't live anywhere but with you. That would be merely existing otherwise."

TBC


	11. XI

**XI**

Sophie didn't fit in; Adam knew from the first moment that he lifted her out of the hired buggy and she stood on the Ponderosa dirt in the front yard and he saw how she looked in such rustic surroundings. Sophie was immediately overwhelmed by Hoss and Joe and their father and Hop Sing. She had been used to Mrs. Handley, to having a woman in the house to help her with her bath and her dress and at the Ponderosa, she felt lost with only men for company. Adam noticed it and tried to act as an intermediary between her and his family but their male energy was different than Louden's. They were loud and lusty and far more considerate of the fact that she was a woman. Adam assured Sophie that he knew what it must be like to go from her brother's quiet home to this one with all the loud talk and raucous laughter. But what upset Sophie the most is that they were always excusing themselves for lapsing into profanities or other vulgar talk. Hoss would blush and say, "Excuse my language, ma'am."

She would assure them that it was all right, that it was their home and they shouldn't change merely because she was there but she noticed the subtle look that passed between Adam's brothers and his father. Sophie felt that she was in the way and more like a guest, an unwelcome guest than a member of the family.

But Sophie was gracious to all his family, Adam noticed, and Hop Sing was so pleased to see Adam married and happy that he made a huge dinner for them on their first night home and hovered to make certain that Sophie ate well. The fact that she ate so little made Hop Sing worry that his cooking didn't live up to San Francisco standards. No matter what Sophie said or did, Hop Sing was always trying to please her with delicacies which she ate even when she felt that she could swallow no more before it came back up.

"Now, Hop Sing," Adam finally said, "if you keep plying Sophie with Chinese pastries and candies, why she'll grow as fat as that prize sow you have out back and I won't want her anymore."

Hop Sing smiled. "In China, fat good. Means very much money—no have to work. Can just sit and eat."

"Well, here, it just means indigestion," Adam answered. "Miss Sophie thinks your cooking is wonderful. She told me so just the other day, right through a mouthful of your food, didn't you, love?"

"Yes, just the other day," Sophie added as she looked at the almond cookies lying on a plate placed before her on the low table as she drank coffee.

"Missy Sophie like Hop Sing cooking? Baking?" He waited and Sophie was moved by the honesty of his open face.

"Yes, Hop Sing. I do. I like it very much."

"She only married me," Adam said, tongue in cheek, "because I told her what a fine cook we had. Me? She doesn't care about me but she waits for each meal. Heaven help me if I should want a kiss when the dinner bell sounds. She'll shove me aside and take off for the table."

"Mistah Adam, he tease Hop Sing. I go now." But he turned and looked at Sophie who sat holding her cup and saucer. "Hop Sing glad you like food. I cook just for you." He and Sophie smiled at one another and an understanding had been reached until the incident with the painting.

But there was an obvious tension in the house and Sophie felt it. Adam did as well but tried to dismiss it but he knew that his brothers were uncomfortable around her. Sophie had that air of sensuality about everything she did, no matter how mundane. Hoss and Joe tried to make Sophie feel at home but the more they fussed, the more uncomfortable she became. Adam talked to them and asked them to just treat Sophie the same as they would any family member but Hoss said that Sophie, "no offense or anything, Adam…" was too beautiful and she made him nervous; it was hard to think of her as a sister because when he did, that only made him more uncomfortable because a man shouldn't feel that way about a sister. And, Hoss nervously said, he was always "imaginin' what she looks like—you know," Hoss said, "Without her clothes." Joe agreed and said that no matter what, he was always aware of Sophie and that she was a woman; whenever she was near him, he couldn't help but think about what she and Adam did when they closed their door at night. And Adam didn't know what to tell them. Sophie dressed modestly, even resorting to her mourning clothes upon occasion because they were somber but there was no denying her attraction to men, his brothers in particular.

But what upset Adam the most was his father. "There's more to marriage than the bed, Adam, and there's more to love than the way someone looks. I'm not saying that you don't love Sophie-I'm sure you do…at least from what I have observed, you do. There's no disguising that. But she makes your brothers uncomfortable. Haven't you noticed how much time they spend away in Virginia City?"

"Oh, I thought I was just having a lucky streak," Adam said sarcastically.

Ben heaved a sigh. Adam wasn't naïve; he must have noticed. "Adam this is a serious matter."

"I don't happen to think it is. Besides, what do you want me to do? Put a sack over her head, lock her away so that Hoss and Joe won't have lascivious thoughts? Or is it you?" Adam was angry. His father was still upset from when two days after Adam and Sophie arrived, her four trunks of clothing and belongings had arrived and there was not enough space available in the bedroom to even hang all her dresses and suits. Adam decided that they would move into the largest bedroom that was used by their most important guests and Sophie used the full wardrobe in that bedroom and over half of the one in Adam's old bedroom as well, his suits and such pushed to the side. Ben had called her "Miss Manifest Destiny" and claimed it was a joke but Adam said that it wasn't funny and not to say it around Sophie; she was having enough trouble settling in and feeling as if she belonged.

"No, it's not me. I'm glad that you've married and that you seem happy."

"Seem?" Adam asked. "What do you mean by that? I seem happy?"

"Nothing except that you appear to be happy. No one can know if another person really is happy but on the other hand, Sophie doesn't seem happy. But all was fine and I think it was working out until…that painting." Ben said, pacing back and forth while Adam sat and reluctantly listened. Hoss had driven Sophie into town; she needed some "products" she said and Hoss blushed when it dawned on him that it was "female stuff" as he told Adam. Adam told Hoss that Sophie was a female—what did her expect her to need? Horse liniment?- and that since he was going into Virginia City for the mail, he would appreciate it if Hoss would take Sophie along. And he had told Hoss, his voice dropping, that Sophie was hoping for a letter from her brother.

"Which painting?" Adam asked knowing that his feigned ignorance would annoy his father. Adam had put up the painting of Sophie as Lilith on the far wall of the great room and as Ben sat in his red chair smoking his pipe, he had no choice but to see it. The image of the sensuous woman disturbed him and sometimes, as Sophie sat on the settee reading or doing needlework, her modest attire and severe hair style bothered him as he could easily envision her as Adam saw her. He hadn't yet worked up the courage to tell Adam to put the painting elsewhere. But the worst was when Roy Coffee had come over to congratulate Adam on his nuptials and brought a small present of boxed, lace-edged handkerchiefs for the bride as a wedding present. Roy had stood in front of the painting and admired it, remarking that Ben's new daughter-in-law must be more than he had hoped for. And he almost laughed aloud at the look in Ben's face. Roy knew then that that he could get to Ben through his daughter-in-law and thought of all the fun that was ahead teasing him.

"Well," Ben said, "both paintings actually but I'm talking about the one under the bed. I mean Hop Sing ducks his head every time he sees Sophie now."

"Where did you want me to put it, Pa? And I swear that Hop Sing has never beaten that bedroom rug before unless we had company coming. I didn't expect him to find it. How did I know he wanted to make it nice for 'Miss Sophie'? It's not even a finished painting. I swear, pa, you've seen nudes before—in both statues and paintings. Why blow this up to such an incident?" Adam didn't feel that he should have to explain any of this. Sophie had done nothing wrong.

"A decent woman doesn't pose for paintings like that—at least not in these parts. Adam, we're not in sophisticated society. People in Virginia City are mainly country people who've never seen the inside of a museum. Even your brothers haven't. And I've taken more than my share of ribbing from Roy Coffee and a few others about that…that…" Ben waved toward the painting on the far wall.

"That's enough," Adam said, standing up. "I've been scouting for a place to build a house for us and tomorrow, I'll take Sophie and show her the spots and let her choose. And then I'll take the paintings with us and out of this house." Adam walked over to the far wall and took the painting off it. "No more worries about this one." And Adam took the painting upstairs and as he walked to their bedroom, he looked again at it and he felt jealous of Mitchell Cranston for his talent and also because Sophie had trusted him enough to expose herself to him. She was his wife now and Adam knew that Sophie allowed him as much freedom with her as he wanted but somehow, it wasn't the same as the intimacy of painting a portrait of her.

Adam propped the painting which was about a foot by a foot and a half, on the mantle. Then he sighed. He was married and glad that he was; Sophie was his heart. But there was still the unfinished business of Alicia. Adam tried to imagine her in such a pose but he couldn't. "Oh, Sophie, I wish you were home. I want you with me." He ached to hear her voice and to see her face.

Adam knew he should tell Alicia himself about his marriage so he made up his mind that early the next morning, he would ride into town and see her. He was sure Alicia had heard that he had brought home a bride from San Francisco but he wanted to tell her himself, to explain. Adam felt guilty in a way he didn't quite understand. But then he thought of Sophie, glanced again at the painting and he knew that it couldn't have been any other way.

TBC


	12. XII

**XII**

"Ma," Sully yelled, "it's Mister Adam!"

Adam tied his horse to their small picket fence. He noticed that it needed painting and that a few pickets had come loose, their nails posing a hazard to the two small boys; there were still cases of lockjaw from farmers or children stepping on old, rusty nails. Adam made a note that he would have to tell Alicia about the threat so that she could have it fixed.

Alicia's two boys came running to him and Adam stooped as they both wanted to grab his neck and hug him.

"Give me ride," Timmy said.

"No, me," Sully begged, shoving his brother slightly.

"How 'bout I give both of you a ride?" and Adam grabbed both boys around their waists, one in each arm and stood up with one boy under each arm as if they were sacks. They laughed delightedly at being carried horizontally.

"Well, I see you have your arms full," Alicia said, standing on her porch but she didn't smile. A few people were passing on the sidewalk and Alicia knew that in a few hours, practically every gossipy woman in Virginia City would know that Adam Cartwright, who had married the "hussy" from San Francisco, had visited her. Then they would conjecture what the visit meant. Did it mean that Adam regretted his decision and came to tell Alicia that he still loved her? Was that woman Adam brought back not really his wife but a courtesan and Adam was still going to ask Alicia to marry him? There were so many possibilities that the women and quite a few men would have enough to talk about for months.

There had been speculation about the new Mrs. Adam Cartwright, especially if she actually was, ever since the stage had pulled in at the depot and the two had debarked. Adam had actually kissed her in public so the observers assumed she was a trollop and of all the Cartwrights, it would be Adam who would bring one home and try to pass her off as his wife. Then, after taking down the luggage, Adam had left his "wife" sitting outside the depot while he went to hire a buggy from the livery.

The men passing by had tipped their hats to Sophie and she had acknowledged their politeness with a small smile and a slight nod. But a few had stopped to talk to the depot master and yes, he said, the woman had arrived with Adam Cartwright and they were married. At least that's what Adam had told him when he left her on the front bench to go hire a buggy.

Well, the men conjectured, that meant that Adam's family didn't know he was arriving or they would have been there to meet the newlyweds. And then the men made crude remarks to one another about a woman that succulent living with all those men and they snickered and slapped each other on the backs when a vulgar joke was made about Ben and the other two boys helping themselves to "leftovers" from Adam's "plate." Sophie could hear their laughter and it made her uncomfortable and she wished that Adam would hurry and return; she felt that the snickers and such were about her.

A group of women had gathered, a way off outside the general store, and discussed the situation and its ramifications. They judged Sophronia's clothes—a bit too fancy for Virginia City, they decided and were those real feathers and pearls on her hat? And her traveling suit looked like fine worsted. Another woman added to the conversation, "Just because Adam sent that wire telling his father he was bringing home a wife doesn't mean she is. Maybe she's nothing more than a fancy woman."

"That would be just like him. At his age and only now married and you know how his tastes in women run."

"Yes. He has been seen patronizing those houses of ill repute. Why my husband said that he saw one of the saloon girls sitting on Adam's lap about a month ago—shameless, just shameless!" And although their tongues wagged in criticism, they found the whole idea rather titillating, remembering how Adam would tip this hat to them and smile and if they were fortunate, they would receive a quick wink. Adam Cartwright was the source of many a heart-palpitating, cheek-flushing reaction among the women of Virginia City who often fanned themselves after his attention to them.

And then, "Poor Alicia" was said in turn by all, tsk-tsking about men and their urges. And each one wondered if they should tell Alicia about the woman's arrival although they were sure she knew for Ben had been elated when he received the wire and told everyone that it had finally happened—one of his sons had married and was bringing home a bride!

Alicia watched Adam walk the path to her porch.

"I have two bundles here. What shall I do with them? Drop them down the well?" The two boys feigned being afraid.

"Not the well, Adam," Sully said.

"No, not well," his little brother said following suit.

"Just put them down, Adam." He did and stood waiting. For some reason he felt as if he was going to be chastised by a school marm.

"But we want to be thrown down the well," Sully whined.

"Don't use that tone, Sully. Now you two go out back," Alicia said. "Mister Adam I have something to talk about." The boys reluctantly went around the side of the house to the back, glancing over their shoulders at their mother and Mister Adam. Their mother had been behaving oddly lately and over the past month, whenever they asked her where Mister Adam was and why he was gone so long, she told them at first that he was away on business and then, after the news of Adam's marriage, she snapped at them when they mentioned his name and the boys would look at one another and slink away.

"Well, Adam. I'm surprised you bothered coming by. Does your wife know?"

"Actually, yes, she does."

"And she doesn't mind?"

"If she does, she hasn't said." Adam still stood on the steps, his hat in his hand.

Alicia looked around at the passersby and didn't want to give them anymore fodder for gossip. "Come in, Adam. How about some coffee?"

"All right," Adam said and followed Alicia through her house to the kitchen where he sat down at the small table and placed his hat down. Then he waited while Alicia poured them both a cup of coffee and sat down.

"I hear she's very beautiful," Alicia said. "Your wife, that is."

"Well, I think so," Adam said, smiling slightly. He had tried to predict how Alicia would react to the news and this was more or less it.

"Some people are saying that she's not really your wife, that she's just a whore you've brought back to pass off as your wife. I don't think that of course, but that's what some people are saying. I just thought you should know."

"Well, I'm glad you don't believe it," Adam said, "because it's not true. Sophronia is my wife and I wanted to tell you myself. I should have written you, I suppose or come to see you sooner—it has been troubling me and I have been putting it off in case I had hurt you. I know everyone thought we had an understanding, you and I, and I suppose in a way we did, but….I just wanted you to hear it from me."

"Well, you're too late. I knew only a few hours after your father received the wire from you and then, well, after she arrived, I knew almost immediately. News travels very fast when one lives in town. But answer me one question," Alicia said. "If I had gone with you to San Francisco, would it have made a difference?"

Adam sighed. He didn't know whether to tell her the truth or not but decided that it was best that he did. "No, Alicia. I don't think that things would have ended up any differently except that you would have had to watch it happen."

Alicia gave a small laugh. "Well then I'm glad I didn't go. I want to say that I hope you and…what's her name?"

"Sophronia—Sophie."

"I want to wish the two of you much happiness but I can't be that gracious yet. I hope that soon I'll be able to do so. In the meantime, I wish you'd leave now."

Adam stood. "I'll go tell the boys goodbye." Adam reached for his hat.

"No," Alicia said. "Just leave."

Adam nodded, turned, and looked out the back window. He could see Sully pushing Timmy on the swing that he had made for them. He turned back to her. "Alicia, please don't make them hate me." But she just coldly looked at him. "And one other thing—there are some loose pickets on the fence out front and the nails are sticking out. It's a danger to the boys."

"That's not your business anymore, is it?" Alicia said.

"I guess not but the fence still needs fixing." Adam stood feeling awkward. He waited a few moments for a response but Alicia said nothing more so he nodded slightly and left the house.

Adam untied the reins of his horse, looked back once more at the small house, and mounted. He kicked the horse into a light canter. He badly wanted Sophie and he was eager to get to her and her welcoming arms. He could already smell her skin and feel the yielding of her mouth against his.

"Hurry up, boy. I've got a pretty filly waiting for me."

TBC


	13. XIII

**XIII**

"Well, what do you think of this site for a house?" Adam had brought Sophie to the spot he had chosen to build their house. It was about twenty minutes from the main house. "The barn would be there, you see, and the front of the house would be here and I thought that the fireplace would be over in this spot, the same concept as the Ponderosa." Adam moved around and pointed out the various places as he spoke and Sophie could see how enthusiastic he was. "And then, out back there'll be a view of the lake in the distance. See, come here." Adam reached out for her hand and then led Sophie through the standing trees to see the vista before them. "I can have the basic house built, have it livable in about three weeks—maybe four-and then the rest can be finished at a slower place while we're living in it. What do you think?" He grinned, hoping it would make her happy.

"It's lovely, Adam." Sophie looked around at the beauty that surrounded her. It was a wonderful spot for a house.

Adam pulled her into his arms. "And you will be the lady of the house and order about the cook and the housekeeper and me." He kissed her lightly. "Hop Sing has dozens of cousins that you can choose from, all eager to do the bidding of my wife, my beautiful Sophie." Sophie smiled but it was a sad smile; Adam immediately knew there was a problem. "What is it, Sophie? The house doesn't have to be here if you don't like it. We can look at other places and you decide. I want it to be your house, yours and mine and I want it to be perfect for you—to be everything you want."

"What shall I do here all alone, Adam, so far away from everything?"

"Whatever you want to do. You can…sew, read, take walks, garden, sketch-whatever you want." Adam then realized what he was proposing to Sophie by moving her into her own house so far away; he was again putting her into isolation but not the same way that she was in San Francisco. In San Francisco, Sophie went out during the day and patronized book stores, visited museums or even had a light lunch at a café. Out here, Virginia City was a good twenty or more minutes further than it had been from the Ponderosa and Sophie couldn't drive all that way alone; Adam wouldn't have allowed it with all the possible dangers and he would constantly worry about her deciding that she would indeed go into town on her own; she was stubborn enough to do so.

Sophie gently pulled away from Adam's embrace and looked at the tall trees reaching to the sky and sighed. She turned back to Adam as she spoke. "I just want to be a part of your life, Adam, and your family's life. I know that things are awkward  
but I am trying, Adam. I've taken to helping with the chickens, feeding them and collecting eggs. I don't think I can help with the pigs though—I don't think I want to. And while you've been out all those days on the property, your father has been teaching me to ride. Maybe soon, I can even help with the roundup and the branding." She smiled at him, at her attempt to make a joke.

Adam knew then that he needed to help integrate Sophie into life on the Ponderosa and not hide her away in a house in the wilderness. For the first time, he began to doubt whether or not he should have stayed in San Francisco and worked for Bronson and Sons. Living here hadn't made Sophie happy, or his family, or him. Adam suffered whenever he saw Sophie try so hard to be part of the all-male household and fail. And then there were the hardships of living out in the wild. Sophie tried to adapt with not taking a full bath whenever she liked but having to resort to a "whore's bath" instead. And there was no water closet or gas lights to make her life easier.

"I'm sorry, Sophie, that things are so hard for you." He pulled her to him again and kissed her forehead and then caressed her hair. Her wide-brimmed hat fell back, the ribbons tied under her chin keeping it from falling to the ground. "My Sophie, I'll help you. I know how hard it must be for you but time, well, things will get better with time." But he wasn't sure that he had done the right thing by her. Yet he couldn't bear to think of life without her. "Oh, Sophie, I love you. Believe that. Trust in it." And Adam couldn't hold her close enough.

"Come in, Roy," Adam said, opening the door and stepping aside.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your supper." Roy Coffee looked at the napkin in Adam's hand.

"No, it's all right," Adam said.

"Roy," Ben called out, "come have something to eat. Hop Sing!"

Roy walked in and stood near the end of the table. "No, thank you. I had my dinner and I just came by to see Mrs. Cartwright." Roy took off his hat and nodded to her.

"To see Sophie? Why?" Adam asked.

"Well, I received some bad news for her and I thought it would be better if I came out now instead of waiting until the morning." Roy looked down and cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. "Maybe if I could see the two of you alone, Adam?"

Sophie stood up, the blood drained from her face, her lips pale. "It's my brother isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am, it is." Roy put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a telegram. "This was sent to me as an officer of the law."

"He's dead," Sophie said with certainty.

"Yes, ma'am, he is. Seems he was shot. I'm sorry. As I said, I thought maybe I should wait until tomorrow but..."

"No," she said dispassionately. "Thank you, Sheriff Coffee." Sophie pushed her chair back even more and walked away from the table and talking more to herself than anyone else said, "I should go pack. I have to go…I have things to take care of—my brother's things—papers and such in San Francisco. And I have to tell my parents. Yes, I have to think of what I need to do. I have so many things to do."

"Sophie." Adam went to her and took her arm. "We'll leave in the morning and I'll help you with whatever needs to be done." She looked at him in a daze. "Sophie? Did you hear me?"

"Yes," Sophie said, "I have to go pack. We'll leave in the morning." And she pulled away from him and walked up the stairs slowly.

"You want the telegram, Adam?" Roy asked, still holding it.

Adam put out his hand and Roy handed it over and watched while Adam read it. It was from the police in San Francisco stating that Louden Wilson of San Francisco was found dead in his home. It also requested that Roy inform his sister, Sophronia Wilson Cartwright, who was said to be living near Virginia City.

"Thank you, Roy," Adam said, folding the paper over and over.

"Won't you stay for coffee, Roy? You've come all this way…" Ben said.

"No, I best get back. Give my condolences to your wife, Adam. Can I wire them back that she'll be arriving in a few days?"

"Yes. Thank you, Roy." And then Adam looked at the stairs. Sophie needed him and he felt an overwhelming sense of loss—not so much for Louden but for Sophie. She had shut down; he felt it for she had shut him out as well.

TBC


	14. XIV

**XIV**

In San Francisco, Adam took care of the arrangements for the funeral and Mrs. Handley, weeping, fixed food for the people who came to the house afterwards. She served them and said nothing except to ask if anyone wanted more of the dishes. But she had sobbed earlier when she told Adam how she had come to work one morning and found Mr. Wilson dead on his bedroom floor, blood everywhere. He had been beaten, shot and the house robbed of some silver. Adam had tried his best to comfort her and she leaned against his chest and sobbed. Mr. Wilson had been so good to her she said. Adam promised her that she would be well taken care of for all her service and he thought that might console her but her grief at her employer's death was sincere; she had come to think of him as a son, she said, and would miss him dearly.

At the funeral, Adam somberly stood on the side and watched Sophie as she went about thanking the people for coming to the funeral and accepting their sympathies. She had yet to cry which Adam thought was strange but since Roy had brought the news to them, Sophie had seemed distant and despite his efforts, Adam couldn't get Sophie to share her grief even with his assuring her that he would help her manage with everything required; there were so many pedestrian details and Adam didn't want Sophie burdened. But after an hour and a conversation with Mr. Bronson, Adam noticed Sophie was gone and so he deftly managed to have the people leave, shaking hands and thanking each person for their kindness to his wife. Mr. Bronson said to give Sophie his deepest condolences and then he turned and said that if Adam wanted a job as an architect at Bronson and Sons, the offer was still there. Adam thanked him for his generosity.

After the mourners had gone and Mrs. Handley was cleaning up, Adam went up to Sophie who was sitting in a rocking chair in her bedroom, the dropping light casting long shadows across the floor. Adam looked around her bedroom, the one where she and he had known their nights of singular pleasure but since they had returned, Sophie barely acknowledged his presence. He wanted to believe it was simple grief but he knew it was more.

The room which had once been so full of their passion for one another and Sophie's exultant pleasure and happiness was now quiet and the contrast made Adam realize even more all that had happened to change Sophie. Adam always liked to imagine Sophie as a young girl of eighteen coming to San Francisco, happy and heartbreakingly beautiful and he wished he had known her then. He felt that he could have shielded her from life's "slings and arrows," as he had once put it, quoting Hamlet. And Sophie had asked him if he was a "sling" or and "arrow" and Adam had laughed and pulled her closer to him as they lay under the covers of the bed.

"Everyone is gone, Sophie. The legal matters are being taken care of by the lawyer. I think we can return home in a week—everything should be settled by then except with your parents. Why haven't you told them yet?"

Sophie shrugged slightly, staring out the window.

"I'll be glad to send the telegram or write the letter if you don't have the words…or don't feel you can."

"They wouldn't know who you were," she said quietly.

"What do you mean, they wouldn't know…? You haven't told them yet we're married, have you?"

"No. For all they know, I've been here with Louden; they don't know that I left him alone to be killed—they would never forgive me."

Adam was becoming angry. He didn't understand her, why she did the things she did. "Sophie, I don't understand any of this. Why haven't you told them of our marriage? Are you ashamed of me? And they need to know of Louden's death."

She looked up at him and tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. "Oh, Adam…I wanted them to think that I was still here—I'm not ashamed to be married to you. Oh, there are so many things you don't know, Adam …things aren't what you thought but I was afraid to tell you, afraid you wouldn't want me if you knew. It's my fault that Louden was killed and how can I tell my parents that?"

"Sophie, that's ridiculous. How could it be your fault?" Adam felt a slight chill run through him.

"Do you remember the constable coming by yesterday?" Adam nodded. It was the day after they arrived and the man had asked to speak to Sophie. Adam had given them their privacy, expecting Sophie to tell him what had transpired but all she said was that the man wanted to give his condolences in person. Adam had suspected her of lying and considered going to the station to speak to someone but so far, he hadn't found the time. "He told me that they suspect that Louden was killed by …a liaison, that he brought home the wrong person—they think it was a sailor but no one really knows. It's just that he was seen in the company of another man at one of the bars on the waterfront." She watched Adam's face and then looked down. "It wouldn't have happened had I been here. I never had to worry about Louden going out looking for someone with Mitchell living here…"

"Why not?" Adam asked.

"Because…well, some mornings Mitchell woke in Louden's bed, some mornings in mine. It's just the way things were—the beliefs that Mitchell held and Louden, well, he wasn't particularly fond of Mitchell but...he sometimes felt the need…" Sophie swallowed her tears and continued. Adam stood still, listening. "Mitchell would say that Louden and I were like the opposite sides of a beautiful coin and he would just flip it to decide who to be with for the night. I accepted it—I was so young and despite my 'education'—or because of my 'education', I accepted it. Louden, he took advantage of Mitchell's appetites for his own satisfaction."

"Oh, Sophie." Adam hadn't expected to hear a confession such as that; he looked at his wife but only felt a deeper love for her. She had been used by Mitchell for more than just the model of the epitome of beauty and grace in his paintings. "They betrayed you, didn't they?"

"In a way, but not really because I loved them both but, Adam, it was nothing like what I feel for you. I never knew love for a man before, not until you. But I should have stayed here. I wouldn't have let Louden go look for someone in such a dangerous place-I wasn't here to intervene, to help him."

"Sophie, I'm confused. Louden made his own decisions."

"Oh, Adam, sometimes…" And then all the warmth left her voice and she continued with an icy edge to her voice. "I was Louden's beard. He would take me with him when he was meeting another man so that people wouldn't suspect. He was just the kind, older brother who took his lonely sister with him. I would give him my opinion of the man and he trusted me—I always knew who would be the wrong person and I would never have let him go to the waterfront—never. And when I left with you, there was no one to protect him, to see that he didn't get involved with the wrong people. It's my fault that it happened, Adam. I was so selfish but had to have you. I loved you more than my own flesh and blood. I sacrificed my brother to be with you and this is what has happened as a result."

"Sophie," Adam said, dropping in front of her as she sat in the chair, "it's not your fault. You have a right to your own life. What happened to Louden was…" Adam couldn't think of the right word; "unfortunate" seemed so weak. "Even had we lived here, it wouldn't necessarily have prevented something like this from happening. Louden was a grown man, not a little boy."

"In many ways he was just a small boy." Sophie looked at him. "I want to go tell my parents myself. Not in a letter, not in a wire but myself—facing them. I owe it to them. They let me come here because I said I would watch over Louden and I didn't. I didn't and now he's dead."

"All right, Sophie," Adam said. "We'll go. We can leave for Hartford as soon as I make arrangements."

"No," Sophie said, grabbing Adam's wrist as he reached to touch her face. "I want to go alone. And you've been away from the Ponderosa for such a long time. I don't want you to take another absence because of me—your family needs you. I don't want to be the cause of your leaving them again. Besides, things have changed now."

"Nothing's changed, Sophie."

Sophie laughed and it surprised Adam. "No? Everything has changed, Adam, The whole world has changed. Don't you feel deceived? Duped? You may try to pretend that your feelings haven't changed but I can see it in your face."

"Then you're seeing what you want to see." But Adam knew Sophie was right; things had changed.

"I'm leaving for Hartford tomorrow and I don't need your permission." Sophie stood up. "I appreciate that you want to help me—you're very kind…"

"Kind? You think I'm being kind? I love you, Sophie, and I want to help you with this"

"No, Adam. It's best that you go back to the Ponderosa by yourself. I'm going alone. I've thought about it since I received the news of Louden's death. I've paid the price for my selfishness with misery and suffering for others including you. I want to see my parents alone."

Adam stood up. "Are you leaving me, Sophie? Is that what you're doing? You've been working this out in that sharp, little mind of yours all this time, haven't you?" Adam gave a small laugh. "You regretted marrying me as soon as you arrived in Virginia City, didn't you, Sophie? All right then. If that's what you want—go alone. And the hell with you." He was angry with her; he had offered her his love and support and she had rejected him. He had tried to make her happy but no matter what he did, she shunned it. He wasn't going to beg her, to argue with her—she would hold that in disdain anyway and think him a fool. But Adam had recognized that Sophie had been different ever since Roy Coffee had arrived with the bad news. Adam decided he wouldn't try to stop Sophie from going. Besides, how would he?

But Sophie had never returned. And now he held the letter from her parents in Hartford.

TBC


	15. XV

**XV**

Adam ran the letter opener along the top of the envelope. He realized his hand was shaking. After Sophie's absence of almost two years, he would still wake in the middle of the night, longing for her, wanting her beside him and in his arms and it always left him shaken, but he didn't realize that he could still react this strongly during the light of day—Sophie was a phantom of the dark, of his desires that couldn't be expressed until all was quiet and secret.

Adam had initially written Sophie many letters and she had never responded. Then he had received a letter from Sophie's father written on heavy stock paper with the engraved heading of his law firm. It was a notice of Adam and Sophronia's legal separation; Sophie wasn't coming back and Adam felt himself shook to the core. The next day came a letter from Sophie's mother, full of regret saying that she was sorry that they would never meet; she would have liked to have met the man who had meant so much to her daughter. She didn't understand Sophronia, she said, and that she only knew that Sophronia wasn't the same as when she had left their home for San Francisco years ago. And then she wished him well.

Ben had tried to get Adam to push for a divorce. After all, Ben said, Adam couldn't take another wife until he was divorced from Sophie but Adam balked; he said that he didn't want another wife and perhaps, Sophie would change her mind and return. Why would she, Ben had asked? Adam had transferred all rights to Louden's property, which legally were Adam's as her husband, to Sophie. When he handed it all to her, he made certain that she would never need him financially. Ben said that he never thought that he would consider Adam a fool but in his opinion, Adam was behaving like one, yearning for a woman who didn't want him. But Adam said that his father didn't know that Sophie didn't want him—she hadn't divorced him.

So time passed and Hoss and Joe tried to treat Adam the same as always but he had seemed to have lost some spark that was essential to his being. Occasionally he would ride into town for a few beers and visit a woman but more nights than not he spent sitting on the porch strumming his guitar working out a new tune or reading by the fireplace or just upstairs in his room—his and Sophie's room. And those nights, he would open her bureau drawers and smell the lavender scent that came from the tucked sachets and he would run the silkiness of the fabric of her stockings and night clothes through his fingers; Sophie had never asked for her things. Then he would lie on the bed and gaze at the painting of Sophie on the mantle and long for her, an overwhelming despondency filling his soul.

With a deep breath, Adam pulled out the cream colored paper from the envelope and unfolded it:

"Dear Adam,

I write this letter without the knowledge of Sophronia; she would not approve. I hope that I am not being too familiar by addressing you by your first name but you are my son-in-law and therefore feel some affection without even knowing you or having seen you.

Nevertheless, by the look of your son—yes, your son—I have some idea that you are dark-haired and quite sturdy in build."

Adam sucked in a deep breath. His son. Mrs. Wilson had said that he had a son. Sophie had given birth to his child. With his heart pounding, Adam read on.

"Your son's Christian name is Wyatt and he is a lovely child, happy and easy-going but it hurts my heart to see him growing up fatherless when he has one in you. I have tried to convince Sophronia from the time Wyatt was born to inform you of his birth but she claims that too much time has passed and that you would have no forgiveness in your heart for her or her brother. What she means by that, I do not know. Nevertheless, Sophronia has said that there is no place in your life for the two of them; she believes that you would not want the child. I disagree because every man want to know of his progeny.

I have passed the information on to you as my conscience will not allow me peace until you know of your son's existence. What happens next is up to you but be assured that Wyatt is much loved and that Sophronia is a surprisingly good mother, patient and gentle.

Do not think that this is a request for money; the child is fully supported as my husband does well financially and, thanks to your largesse, Sophronia has the bulk of my late son, Louden's estate. I am informing you more for my peace of mind than anything else. But should you decide to visit, you are most welcome in our home by both my husband and myself. I cannot speak for Sophronia.

With affection,

Mrs. Armand Wilson"

Adam put the letter on the desk. His breathing was rough. The letter had brought Sophie back with an impact and the news that he had a son was something he had never entertained in all his fantasies of Sophie returning to him. But Adam didn't have to think of what action he would take; he was going to Hartford, Connecticut to claim his son—and his wife.

The trip to Connecticut seemed interminable but finally Adam stood on the street outside the brick house in which the Wilsons resided. Sophie and his son were inside and Adam felt foolish. The whole journey he had gone over what he would say when he saw Sophie and how he would behave should she react in different ways. And as he had slept on the rocking train, he had horrible dreams of loss and grief and he would wake up feeling as if he was drowning, gasping for breath.

The train had arrived an hour before and Adam had taken a modest hotel room, leaving his bags, not even taking the time to change, and asked for directions to Mansard Street and now he stood trying to rouse his courage; he was afraid. He didn't know what he feared would happen, after all, it was his son and Sophie wouldn't, couldn't, deny him access to the boy. But Adam realized that he was afraid of his feelings for Sophie—he loved her still. He didn't want to love her—it would make things easier if he didn't—he could just take the child and go-but he did love her and he couldn't deny it to himself.

Adam walked up to the house and turned the ringer. He nervously waited and finally the door was opened by a middle-aged woman in a starched maid's uniform.

"Yes, may I help you?" She looked at the tall man at the door dressed oddly, like one of those men from out west-a cowboy. He held a black Stetson in his hands and wore a tan trail coat and needed a shave. No one like him had ever come to the house before and she had worked for the Wilsons for twenty years.

"I'm Adam Cartwright," he said as way of explanation. "Is Mrs. Cartwright at home?"

"Well, yes, but…do you have card?"

"No, I don't. Please…would you tell Mrs. Wilson I'm here?"

"Yes, sir." The maid was uncertain but he had said his name was Cartwright and she knew that Sophie and the child went by that name. "Please come in?"

Adam stepped inside and stood in the narrow foyer, his hat in his hands while the maid, who had told him to wait a moment, went to the interior of the house. Adam looked around. There was a mirror by the door so that people could check their appearance one last time before leaving the house and he wished he had shaved as he saw his reflection. Sophie had once teased him by saying that five minutes after he shaved, he needed to do so again. The maid came back, took his hat and led him into a formal parlor. A well-dressed, older woman, her grey hair neatly and elegantly coiffed, stood up and gently smiled at him as she put out her hand. Adam knew that it was Sophie's mother.

"Welcome, Adam. May I call you Adam?"

"Yes," he said, smiling slightly, taking her hand. "Please do, Mrs. Wilson. I received your letter and I came immediately. I want to see Sophie and…my son."

"Welcome to Hartford, Adam. As for your son, his name is Wyatt. Wyatt Adam Cartwright. He's a wonderful child but almost wasn't born; we came close to losing both of them, mother and child. Sophronia had a difficult time so my husband and I treasure them both even more. You know how it is when you almost lose someone and then they come back to you?" Mrs. Wilson looked to Adam and knew by his expression that he understood her and what she meant.

"You're very wise," Adam said, smiling.

"One of the few benefits of age," she said gently. She liked this man with his crooked grin and warm eyes. She understood how Sophie could have so quickly and so violently fallen in love with him.

"I hoped that you would come when you were told about Wyatt. If you hadn't, then I would know the kind of man you were and wondered how Sophronia could ever have married you. But you did come and so I know the kind of man you are and I well understand why she married you. You are handsome as well but that doesn't surprise me—Wyatt takes after you—a most beautiful child."

"If he's beautiful, he must take after Sophie, not me, and when I look at you, I see where Sophie gets her beauty."

"Why thank you. I haven't received a compliment in a long time. Once a woman gets to a certain age, well, especially with a beauty like Sophronia around, she hardly looks lovely by comparison. It seems that men just see only her…but Adam, let me assure you that Sophronia seems not to notice anyone, not any of the men who come to visit just to see her; she sends them away. Sophronia dotes on Wyatt and he has become her life but I want more for my daughter and for my grandson. That's mainly why I wrote you."

"Have you told Sophie yet? About your letter, I mean."

"No, not yet. You can tell her. To be honest, I'm not that brave as far as Sophronia is concerned—she has managed to cow me a time or two. Her education, you know. It creates rebellious women."

Adam smiled. Yes, that was his Sophie; she could be intimidating and he well understood how she could easily dismiss a man's interest in her. But Sophie also dreaded isolation yet seemed to invite it. Adam knew that Sophie had tried to live with him and his family and then she tried to live with herself after Louden had been killed and so he also well understood her running back to her parents' house and to its safety. Sophie had needed a place of rest that she hadn't found on the Ponderosa.

"Sophie is here, isn't she?" Adam was afraid that she had gone away on a trip or such and his journey to her was for naught.

"Yes. Come with me, Adam." Mrs. Wilson took Adam's arm and led him to a conservatory filled with white wicker furniture and ferns in huge planters that faced the back yard. Adam caught his breath. In the garden, Sophie was laughing and playing with a child, a child who was over a year in age. Adam hadn't seen Sophie in what had seemed a lifetime but it was now as if they had never been separated. She was as beautiful if not more beautiful than ever and she was laughing and running after the little boy who chortled in delight and seemed convinced that he could run faster than the slender woman who chased him. And then Sophie caught the child and lifted him up and they both laughed. Then she clasped the child against her, kissing his cheeks and his dark curls and the child struggled against her grasp, wanting down. She put him down and he took off running again

"Shall I call her in?' Mrs. Wilson asked going to the door but she stopped when she saw the intense look in Adam's eyes as he watched his wife and child. "Adam?" She reached out and touched his arm. "Shall I call Sophronia in?"

"What? No…I…" Adam walked to the door of the conservatory, opened it and stepped out into the back yard. The child saw him first and stopped and stared. Then Sophie saw Adam and her hand flew to her mouth. She stood still as he approached her and stopped a few feet away from her.

"Hello, Sophie," Adam said, his voice breaking, "I've missed you. I didn't realize how very much until I saw you again."

TBC


	16. XVI

**XVI**

Sophie, stood transfixed. She was unable to speak or to even move as Adam approached her. The child watched the man walk toward his mother and he called out to her. "Momma, chase! Momma, chase! The child started running but stopped and looked back when his mother didn't pursue him and stared again at the man.

Adam reached out and tenderly held the side of Sophie's face and her chin. "I had forgotten how beautiful you were or maybe you've just become more beautiful." Then he slid his hand to the back of her neck and pulling her toward him, kissed her, gently at first and then with more passion as she didn't refuse him her mouth. But then, she pulled away. Adam looked intently at Sophie, at her tremulous lips and her eyes that had always been so emotive and beautiful and then he turned to look at the child who seemed to be transfixed by him. He didn't see himself in the child except for the swarthy skin. Sophie was so pale and this child who had been running on his study legs about the yard was darker. But Adam's chest swelled with pride; this was his son. That he knew for certain. The child met his eyes and furrowed his brow. The man had come between him and his mother and their game. He was young enough to be upset about it, at least for the moment.

"I want to see him," Adam said to Sophie. The child still stood and stared. "He's mine, he's my son, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's yours right down to his stubbornness and charming smile." She looked at Adam who watched his son who had begun to run again. "Did you find out about him? Is that why you came here?"

"Yes."

"Then you didn't come for me," Sophie said, her voice reflecting the disappointment she felt.

"Did you want me too, Sophie? It's never seemed that way. I wrote you and apologized over and over but you never answered. I begged you to return home but you didn't. I offered to come for you, offered to carry you in my arms all the way to the Ponderosa if you wanted, but you never replied. Never. I had even thought of coming here and dragging you back with me, forcing you to return but to what end? You can't make a person love you so what did you think would happen, Sophie? That I would crawl on my belly begging you to return to me and let you kick me in the teeth again? What, Sophie, what?"

"I don't know, Adam. I never wrote you back because I…well, after what you knew about me, why would you want me? I couldn't face you, Adam. After all, you must have been filled with revulsion at the thought of me. And then there was your family. It was hard enough for them to accept me as it was but after all that happened… and then, once I was here, I found out that I was with child and I…I just wanted him here with me, a part of you right here. I look at him and see you in his expressions and in his smile. And then so much time passed…how did you find out about him? My mother?"

"Yes. She wrote me and told me about Wyatt. She thinks he needs a father and so do I." Adam fought to keep control of himself. He wanted to grab Sophie, shake her and demand that she come back with him or he would take the child and she would never see her son again. In that way, he was sure, Sophie would return with him. But he couldn't be so cruel. She loved their son and he loved her.

"Wyatt's fine here, Adam. He has his grandfather and my mother and me. I'm a good mother, Adam, despite my past, I am. I love him. Please don't take him from me. Please."

Adam walked toward the child and stooped in front of the boy who smiled when the man smiled at him. "Hello, Wyatt." Adam didn't know what else to say. He didn't want to frighten his son. He heard Sophie's skirts swishing as she came up beside him and stooped as well and put out her arms.

"Come here, darling. Come to momma." The child looked from one adult to another and then went to his mother, putting his arms around her neck and ducking his head down over her shoulder to coyly hide from the stranger. Sophie stood up and Adam did as well.

Adam stroked the child's dark curls as his mother held him; the boy pulled his head away and looked at the big man.

"He doesn't know you, Adam," Sophie said.

"And whose fault is that?" Adam saw Sophie's expression; he had wounded her. "I'm sorry, Sophie. That was cruel."

"No, it's the truth. I was afraid—of so many things. I had made so many mistakes…maybe not telling you about Wyatt is one of them, but...

Mrs. Wilson stepped out into the garden. "Sophie, it's time for Wyatt's nap."

Sophie put the child down and gave him a slight push toward his grandmother.

"Wyatt," Mrs. Wilson called. "Wyatt, come to grandmother. Come to me." She bent down and put out her arms.

Wyatt turned and pointed at the man who was with his mother and had spoiled their play.

"Wyatt, go to grandmother. Go now," Sophie said. Again, she pushed him slightly and he ran to his grandmother's waiting arms. Mrs. Wilson picked up the child and kissing his rosy cheeks, carried him into the house.

"You didn't answer me, Adam. Did you come to take him from me?"

"Sophie, I grew up without a mother and I always felt the lack, the emptiness. Do you think I would do that to my own son? But I imagine that it would have been just as devastating had I grown up without a father and Wyatt does have a father. He can have both of us, Sophie, and we…we can have each other."

Sophie looked at Adam. He was still a mystery to her. After all this time, after her having deserted him, he was still willing to take her back.

"You'll take me back as Wyatt's mother or as your wife? Which one, Adam?"

He looked at Sophie and realized how much he still loved her. "As Wyatt's mother, as my wife, my lover, my friend…whatever you choose to be. Sophie, I still dream about you. Even after all this time you haunt me every moment of my life, both waking and sleeping. We could start again. Let yourself be happy, Sophie. You can be, you know, if you'd just get out of your own way."

"Is that how it's been, Adam? Is it that simple? Have I made myself unhappy all this time?"

"Only you can answer that." Adam leaned down and kissed her again, lightly and their lips parted reluctantly. "Now take me in and introduce me to my son before he goes down for his nap. I have some catching up to do. Does he like to be read stories at his age?" He put out his hand and Sophie paused, and then reached out. Adam took her hand in his and they walked into the house together.

~ Finis ~


End file.
